Bell
by StarsAbove221B
Summary: Bell, a young girl with fanciful daydreams, follows her father's trail to Luna and finds herself ensnared by a thaumaturge in this Lunar Chronicles adaptation of Beauty and the Beast.
1. Chapter 1

My eyes must have been two inches from the screen of my port as I wandered aimlessly through the village, past the duck pond and the bookshop and the children's park. The screen's glow defied the shadows of clouds overhead that wished to dim its light. Word after word poured into my head, dancing and reeling, projecting vivid images in my mind's eye. I didn't notice the man who appeared in front of me until the portscreen was snatched from my hands. I looked up to see Captain Carswell Thorne standing in the shade of the willow tree I'd been passing under, swiping his finger across the screen.

"What are you reading?" he asked, squinting at the glowing surface.

"Doesn't matter," I retorted, snatching my port back.

"Your face was practically buried in it, Bell-a-roo. I think it matters."

"Don't call me that." I turned and marched the other way down the cracked pavement, but Thorne followed. I realized my mistake too late. The pavement led me straight to his cargo ship, the Rampion. Rumor had spread through the village in only a few days after the crew had arrived that the ship had been stolen from the American Republic, and the crew, excepting Captain Thorne, hadn't made much of an effort to deny the suspicions.

"You should come aboard, Bell-a-roo," he offered. He draped an arm around my shoulders and led me towards the open loading ramp, where his friends Wolf, Scarlet, and Cress were busy unloading boxes of cargo.

"No, I really don't think I should. Cress?" I called. "Can you please ask your boyfriend to stop flirting with me?"

Cress looked up from the box she was labeling, red-faced. "He's not my boyfriend," she said with a shy grin. "And sorry, I've tried to make him stop."

"I'm just an incurable romantic," Thorne agreed. "Besides, who could resist this face?" He smiled crookedly at me.

I punched him squarely in the gut and marched away.

"Cress, did I deserve that?" he wheezed.

"I believe so, Captain."

"Aces, that hurt."


	2. Chapter 2

The O'Hara house sat at the edge of the village, overlooking the emerald green hills of the English countryside. Built in the quaint style of the second era, its walls were made of red brick, and pretty gables peeked from the tiled roof.

I was in the kitchen cooking dinner, reading from my port, which I had propped on the counter, when the family ship came into view through the window. The flowers rustled in their beds as the cargo ship–much smaller than the Rampion–lowered onto the grass. My little brother Henry ran out to greet the single passenger who emerged from the craft. Dad was home. Violet wound her arm in his as he crossed the garden to the house. I knew my older sister well enough to know she was asking if he'd brought any dresses or accessories back for her. I heard the back door open and my siblings' excited chatter as they followed Dad through the hallway and into the kitchen. Only then did I turn around and hold out my arms for a hug.

Dad beamed and wrapped me up tight.

When he let go, I asked, "How was the Eastern Commonwealth?"

He lowered himself with a huff into a chair at the kitchen table and offered a strained smile. "Exhausting," he answered. "As always."

"What's it like there, Dad?" Henry asked, climbing onto his lap. The boy's excited eyes were wide with restless curiosity.

Dad chuckled and said, "Hot. Very, very hot. I'm glad to be back in the good old UK, where I can always count on rain and clouds."

Violet laughed politely, then hurriedly urged, "But did you bring anything back for me?"

I glared at her, but Dad smiled wearily. "Of course I did." He produced a small package from the inside of his coat and held it up.

Violet squealed, and Henry gasped with excitement. Even I leaned a little closer, wondering what he could have in there.

"Vi," Dad said, pulling something out of the package, "these earrings are for you."

Violet took the sparkling trinkets eagerly and ran from the kitchen to find a mirror. "Thank you, Dad!"

"Henry, this is a new tie pin for school." He handed Henry a little silver pin shaped like an old gas car, the type used ages ago, before World War IV.

"Whoa! A Mustang! Thanks!" Henry exclaimed, hugging his father. The little boy jumped from his lap and ran out of the kitchen after Violet, leaving me alone with Dad.

"Bell," Dad said affectionately, "I regret to say I don't have a gift for you. There was simply nothing in the whole Commonwealth that I thought you'd like. Trinkets, such as I gave Violet and Henry? I knew you wouldn't appreciate that kind of thing. I hope you can forgive me for not bringing you anything."

I sat in the chair next to him and took his hand. "Of course. I'm just happy you're home safely."

He grimaced guiltily. "Well."

I frowned. "What's wrong?"

Sighing, he replied, "I have to leave again tomorrow morning."

"What? Why?"

"An opportunity has come up on Luna."  
"On Luna!"

"I know, I know. But I'll only be gone ten days." He saw my dejected expression and added, "It's a very profitable deal, and I only agreed to it because… Well, to be frank, we need the money."

I studied him sadly. His graying hair stuck out in every direction, and the skin around his cinnamon brown eyes was wrinkled from years of worry. But beneath the worry was hope: hope that I would understand, that I would see that it was for the best, that this could help our family. I couldn't say no to that face.

I nodded. "Alright. Just stay safe and keep in touch, as always."

"Of course, Bell."

* * *

The next morning, Henry and I helped Dad load the ship with goods to be sold on Luna. Violet stood by and watched, fingering her new earrings. When the last of the crates had been packed onto the ship, Dad asked us each what souvenir we wanted from Luna.

Henry asked for a model ship, and Violet for a dress.

"And what shall I bring home for you, Bell?" Dad prompted, coming to stand in front of me.

I'd known he would ask–he always did–and it hadn't taken much thought to come up with an answer. "A rose."

"Are you sure that's all? A single rose?"

I nodded. "I've read about the most exquisite roses that are only cultivated on Luna, the Heaven's Pearl," I explained. "Their petals are pure as the pearls they're named for, and they live twice as long after being plucked as any other type of rose. I've always dreamed of seeing one for myself. I can only imagine how wonderful they must smell."

Dad shook his head with a chuckle. "Alright, then. A rose it is."

He gave us each a farewell hug, then closed himself in the ship and flew away, waving for as long as he could see us. He and the ship vanished into the blue sky, where the white orb of Luna hung far above us.

It was then, as I squinted up into the endless sky beside Henry and Violet, that I made a decision: someday I would follow in my father's footsteps and travel the world. I vowed that I wouldn't spend my life merely reading about adventures on the screen of a port; I would craft my own adventure, one worthy of a fairytale. Somehow. Someday. Then it hit me. I didn't have to wait or wonder how. I had an opportunity right there in the village. And so, with that thrilling thought surging through my mind, I set off in search of Captain Carswell Thorne.


	3. Chapter 3

I found him in the pub, dancing on the tables.

A rowdy folk song played over the speakers above the bar, and Thorne was singing along with all his heart, making up all the words he didn't know (which was practically the entire song) and dancing a complicated jig across the tabletops.

Cress applauded him from her table in the corner, while the whole pub cheered him on. Wolf and Scarlet sat with Cress, watching Thorne with amusement. Wolf munched on a tomato sandwich. He pulled out each slice of tomato individually and placed them in his mouth one at a time with obvious relish.

My confidence faltered as I realized the enormity of what I was doing, and I couldn't help but wonder if this was a bad idea. After all, I hated Thorne, right? Well, I didn't _hate_ him, but his relentless flirting got on my nerves. Unnerved by these thoughts, I was about to turn around and leave, but then Scarlet saw me and waved me over. I couldn't very well ignore her, so I squared my shoulders and joined their table.

"What are you doing here?" Scarlet asked, curiosity quirking her red lips.

"I–I came to talk to you," I admitted.

"To me?"

"Well, to all of you."

Wolf shifted his attention from his sandwich and onto me. It was unnerving to have his bright green eyes trained so fiercely on me, even though I'd long since discovered how much his menacing appearance clashed with his gentle personality.

Cress, too, tore her gaze from Thorne–who was now inviting others to join him in his dance–to look at me.

"What about?" Scarlet pressed.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I said, "I want to join your crew on the Rampion."

The reaction was better than I could have hoped for. Cress beamed, while Scarlet nodded and Wolf's features brightened. Not exactly a smile, but close enough.

"I don't have any special skills or really anything I could add to your crew. I just need to get out of this village. It's nice enough, don't get me wrong, but I need to get away. Is that alright?" I asked nervously.

Cress nodded enthusiastically.

"Technically, we should ask the captain," Scarlet reminded her, "but since he's currently occupied"–she cast a disdainful glance at Thorne and his dance partners, who now numbered three–"I'll go ahead and say yes on his behalf. I'm sure he won't mind."

Cress's smile was almost too big for her face, although she didn't say anything to confirm her excitement. I didn't mind. She'd never been one for talking much. Personally, I was relieved to have the question out of the way. It was done, deal made. Except for one thing.

"I have to ask my dad first. Then I can join."

Cress's face fell. "You haven't got permission?" Her fingers flew to her hair and began to fidget with a strand.

"I know he'll say yes," I reassured her quickly. "I just haven't had a chance to ask him. I'll send him a comm as soon as I can."  
"Well, once you get permission, you're welcome to join," Scarlet decided. "Since you're under eighteen, that's the requirement." She rolled her eyes. "Laws are stupid."

I laughed. "Thank you," I said, getting up to leave. "And thank Thorne for me too. Oh, and tell him he's a terrible dancer."

Scarlet grinned. "Definitely."

I stepped out of the pub and into the sun of the gorgeous summer day. I took out my port and, fingers crossed, sent a brief comm to Dad asking about joining the Rampion crew. Then, since a sunny day was too rare a phenomenon to be wasted indoors, I pulled up my book and wandered through the village for a couple of hours–until I spotted Violet entering a shop down the road. Violet never went shopping–except for clothes. Frowning, I turned off my port and followed.

The building she'd entered was arguably the fanciest shop in town, a boutique I'd only ever walked past, deeming it beyond my price range. The sign above the door was hideously pink, with printed ivy vines encircling the fancy script which bore the boutique's name and slogan: Queenie's Gowns–Find the Dress of Your Dreams. I suppressed the sound of disgust that tried to escape my throat. When I opened the door of the shop, a blast of perfumed air knocked me back a step. Holding my breath, I ventured into the shop. The room was packed full of racks and racks of dresses in every shape, size, color, and material imaginable. Three or four customers drifted along the aisles, assisted by employees in sparkly jackets. The whole shop could easily have been the result of a three-year-old girl let loose with glitter and sequins. A plush carpet silenced my footsteps as I craned my neck, searching for a glimpse of my sister.

I found her a few aisles away, holding a shamrock green dress up to herself and checking it out in a mirror.

"Violet, what are you doing?" I demanded, joining her in front of the mirror.

"What does it look like I''m doing?" she retorted. "I'm buying a new dress."

"Why?"

She shrugged.

"Dad's bringing one back from Luna for you." I crossed my arms. "You don't need another new one. Besides, how much does it cost?" I nabbed the price tag before she could pull it out of my reach. My eyes widened. " _Three thousand univs_!"

"Oh, the cost doesn't matter. You're too young to understand." She shooed me away, but I stood my ground.

"I'm sixteen. I think I'm old enough to understand that we're _poor_." Violet ignored me and moved further down the rack, rifling through dresses. I marched after her. "Violet, you can't spend all that money on a dress! It's more than you've earned in the entire time you've worked at that salon." I gasped as sudden realization hit me. "This isn't even going to come out of your own account, is it? You're going to pull it from _Dad's_ account! Violet, listen to me!"

She finally turned to look at me, one perfectly shaped eyebrow raised haughtily. A couple of the other customers had turned to peer at us over the racks of dresses. "I can do what I want."

"No, you can't," I argued. "Dad works hard to earn the money we have, and here you are, squandering it all on a dress."

She scoffed. "You're one to talk. You're abandoning our family so you can travel the world!"

I drew back, shocked.

"Yes, I know all about the little deal you made this morning with Scarlet Benoit and her friends." Her voice rose, and, to my surprise, tears sprang up in her eyes. Bitterness injected her every word. "How could you be so selfish? Do you realize how much you mean to Dad? You're obviously his favorite, with your 'all I want is a rose' and 'I'm just glad you're home safe and sound'. Now you're going to leave us all in poverty so you can have adventures the rest of us will never have. You're leaving me to take care of Henry while you fly away in your spaceship to have a grand old life. You're abandoning us, and you're abandoning Dad. Have you even stopped to think about how this will affect our family?" She drew a shuddering breath, and when she spoke again, her tone was dark. "You can call me selfish and shallow, and maybe I am, but you're the one trading in your family for a chance at a new life."

I couldn't breathe. A lump rose in my throat. The whole shop was watching us now, holding its breath and waiting for the next strike, as if we were a net drama. But I didn't try to deny the accusations, because deep in my heart, I knew the truth of the words she'd spoken. She was still a little bit wrong, though, wasn't she? I could always come back, and I _would._ Wouldn't I? I loved Dad and Henry, and even Violet. I would never leave them for good. A weariness fell over me, and despite all the arguments in my head, I didn't have the energy to justify myself. So I did what any fairytale hero wouldn't do. I gave in.

"Fine," I muttered. "Buy the dress. I don't care. I'm going home."

With that, I slipped quietly past the gawking spectators and exited the boutique.

* * *

 **Thanks so much for reading this far in my fic! I really appreciate it!**

 **I've got a lot to juggle at the moment, so I don't know how much I'll stay true to this, but my goal is to update once or twice a week. If I don't get around to it, don't panic - the next chapter _is_ on its way.  
**


	4. Chapter 4

Dad didn't answer my or my siblings' comms that evening, nor for the next two days. I tried to excuse the fears that crept into my heart, but it was no use. He should have arrived on Luna the very first evening, and he always–no matter what–contacted us within a day of getting to wherever he went. When I woke up early on the third morning since his departure and there were still no new comms from him, I snapped into action. I hurriedly tugged on my most comfortable dress and boots and set off into the pre-dawn village.

The sun had barely begun to peek over the distant hills on the horizon when I caught sight of the hulking silhouette of the Rampion. I marched to the loading ramp and knocked loudly. The sound reverberated through the whole ship, deafening in the morning silence.

It was a minute or two before the ramp began to lower to the ground. It opened to reveal Cress, illuminated by the dimmed lights inside the ship and anxiously poking her head around the side of the door. Her hair was ruffled, and one blonde chunk on the left side of her head stuck out nearly perpendicular to the rest. Pillow marks creased her right cheek.

"I need you to take me to Luna," I said.

"Bell?" She blinked and frowned, trying to make sense of my words. Coming down the ramp to meet me, she asked, "Luna? Why?"

"Dad's up there, and he hasn't responded to any of my comms."

Thorne came out then, yawning widely. He wore blue pajamas with cartoon rocketships scattered upon them, and his eyes were squinted. He stumbled down the ramp and shushed us. "Some people like their beauty sleep, you know." He smiled groggily. "Not that I _need_ any more beauty."

I ignored him. "Please, can you help? My father could be in trouble."

Cress looked thoughtfully up at the early morning sky. "We were going to stay here for another week, then go to Luna for more antidote, but I suppose we could leave sooner." She arched her back and stretched. "How soon did you want to leave?"

"We're leaving?" Thorne whined. "But the sun hasn't even come up yet!"

"I was hoping we could leave today," I told Cress, ignoring Thorne's moans.

She nodded, sending the stuck-out part of her hair into a frantic waggle. "We'll talk it over with Scarlet and Wolf. Come on, Captain." She took Thorne by the arm and guided him back up the ramp. Turning back to me, she said, "I'll comm you when we've made a decision."

"Thank you so much, Cress."

She yawned and disappeared into the ship with Thorne.

An hour or so later, I was lying on my bed reading when my port buzzed. I almost yelled with excitement when I read that the Rampion crew had agreed to take me to Luna, and even to help me find my father. I commed back that I'd pack my bag and meet them at the ship, then I rolled off my bed and pulled a ratty old messenger bag down from my closet. After packing it with an extra outfit and other essentials, I tucked my port into a pocket in my dress and snuck downstairs. Down in the kitchen, I typed out a comm to Violet to explain what was going on. I knew she'd be sure to see it when she woke up.

Heart racing, I stepped out the front door and was halfway to the road before I heard a voice call out behind me.

"So you've decided to abandon us sooner than planned?"

I turned and saw Violet standing in the door of the house. Her arms were crossed, and her face was tight with anger and disgust. "You're leaving. Just like that. With no warning."

"I'm not abandoning you," I objected. "I'm going to find Dad."

"Of course. Perfect Bell, saving our dad." She laughed derisively, the sharp sound drilling into my head. "As if he could love you any more than he already does."

"This isn't about me!" I shouted, then hurriedly lowered my tone. "This isn't about me This is for Dad and for you and for Henry. If you want to go to Luna in my place to find him, be my guest. Or better yet, come with me."

She shook her head and spat, "I wouldn't want to steal your limelight. Comm me when you're coming back. If you even plan to." Without another word, she turned and strode back inside, slamming the door behind her.

With a heavy weight in my heart, I shifted my bag to my other hand and trudged away.


	5. Chapter 5

The hours crawled by as we flew, mile by neverending mile, to Luna. I spent every moment consumed by worry for Dad and regret for my conversation with Violet.

Cress tried to cheer me up by getting me to look out at the stars, but the heavenly bodies blurred into dull pinpoints in my preoccupied brain. She tried playing games with me on the portscreens, but the mindless tapping and endless strategy only served to worsen my nerves. By the time we arrived on Luna, my brain was so tired from over-thinking every possibility of what might have happened to Dad that I hardly noticed we were at the docks right outside the glittering palace at the heart of Artemisia.

After a rough landing which involved a lot of Scarlet yelling instructions at Thorne and Thorne claiming loudly that he knew what he was doing, we all gathered at the control board at the front of the ship. The view from the front window was that of busy crewmen loading and unloading their ships with the help of polished androids. The palace spires climbed high above the docks, reaching towards a great glass dome–one of many that enclosed the capital city of Luna, Artemisia.

Cress took a seat at the control board and began to type furiously.

"What's your dad's name, Bell?" she asked without taking her gaze from the screen.

"Morris O'Hara. Why?"

"She's going to track his ID chip," Wolf answered, his low voice rumbling in my bones.

"You can do that?"

Thorne nodded, grinning proudly at Cress's focused posture. She hummed a song softly as her fingers flew over the screen.

My father's picture popped onto the screen, surrounded by glowing letters announcing his personal information, and with a couple more seconds, Cress brought up what looked like a map. A glowing red dot sat in the center, and as Cress zoomed in, I saw street names and houses marked out individually. The dot was in the middle of a large rectangular house not far from the edge of the lake.

"So that's where he is?" I pulled out my port and typed the address into it. Knowing we had come to the right place was a relief. It felt good to know he was _somewhere,_ and even better to know that he was within my reach.

"Looks like it," Scarlet said, leaning in and squinting at the screen. "That's quite far from here. I can drive you if you want, Bell."

I shook my head. "I want to go alone."

"You sure?" Thorne asked. "It's not as safe as your little village back home, Bell-a-roo."

I glared at him. "Don't call me that. And yes, I'm sure." I forced a smile onto my face. "All I have to do is find the address and make sure my father's okay."

The crew's concerned looks told me that my smile was not convincing enough.

"Really, I'll be fine. He'll fly us home again afterwards on our own ship, so you don't have to wait up for us."

I slipped away to the loading ramp before they could scrutinize me any further. We stepped out onto the docks, Cress holding Thorne's hand, and Scarlet holding Wolf's, all looking around uneasily.

"Are you alright?" I asked, frowning.

Scarlet was the first to nod. "We've all had some…painful experiences on Luna. It's still strange to be welcome here." She shivered, and Wolf's grip on her hand tightened. I wondered if those 'painful experiences' had anything to do with her and Thorne's missing fingers. "But you should get going. It'll be dark soon."

I turned my eyes to the dome, which was already beginning to darken. I didn't entirely understand how the artificial days worked on Luna, but I'd read enough to know the real Lunar day had ended about a week and a half ago, and that it wouldn't begin again for another two weeks, when the sun would once again appear on the horizon. I thought of all I'd heard about the splendor of the sunrise on Luna. Maybe I would get to see it someday, perhaps during my travels in the Rampion. But there was no time to think about that right now. I needed to find Dad.

"Right." I waved awkwardly to the crew. "Gotta go."

Cress smiled. "You'll find him," she said quietly.

The words warmed my heart, and I smiled for real. "I know. Thanks for your help. Oh, and I haven't forgotten your promise. Once I've gotten Dad safely back to Earth, I expect to join your crew."

Thorne started like a deer in headlights. "Wait, what?"

I smirked and ran away across the docks, leaving the others to fill him in.


	6. Chapter 6

Artemisia truly was a fabulous city, but I didn't have time to admire it. Every surface shimmered like polished crystal, and every person was almost unrealistically beautiful. I began to sorely regret my plain dress and time-worn boots when I noticed their expensive, outlandish costumes. I jogged past boutiques by the dozen and skimmed around fountains and through busy shoppers. I kept glancing down at my port for the address and asking people for directions, and eventually I found myself standing before an enormous mansion.

In contrast to the other houses on the street, this one looked dark and empty. No lights shone, inside or outside. The grounds were surrounded by an imposing wrought-iron gate, and the hedges on the other side were unkempt. In the artificial dusk, the place looked almost like the haunted mansions I'd read about in books.

A chill shivered down my spine, and I gave in to the irresistible urge to look behind me. There was no one there.

I checked my port again. Surely this wasn't the right place–how would Dad ever have wound up _here_? But yes, the map insisted that this mansion was most certainly where my father was located.

I threw my shoulders back, strode up to the gate, and pushed against it. It swung open with an ear-piercing squeal. I leapt back with a yelp, my heart thundering. _It's just a gate,_ I rebuked myself. _What are you so afraid of?_ I laughed nervously at myself, then I slipped through the gate and shut it slowly behind me.

I walked carefully along the weed-infested gravel path through the front garden, fiddling with the zipper on my bag. As I reached the steps to the front door, a rosebush caught my eye and I stopped to inspect it. It was the Heaven's Pearl, the kind I'd asked Dad to bring back for me. The roses' pearly petals glimmered tantalizingly in the last clinging light of day. I wanted so badly to pluck one right then, but I knew I couldn't. Dad could be counting on my getting to him as soon as possible. I stared longingly after the roses as I mounted the steps and came to the front door. There was no doorbell, so I knocked and waited. No answer. I knocked again, harder this time. Still no answer.

Reasoning that since the gate had been open, perhaps the front door would be too, I took hold of the cold handle and turned. Almost to my surprise, the door was unlocked. I stepped slowly inside the mansion, leaving the door open for light.

The floor was paved with glassy tiles upon which my boots clicked with every tentative step. Wide staircases ran along either wall and met in the middle of the opposite wall to lead into the second floor. The room was bare of furniture. No paintings adorned the walls. The only form of decoration was the set of dark curtains hung over the windows on either side of the door.

Another chill danced through me, but I ventured away from the door and towards the staircase. Every step echoed deafeningly in the silence. I was reassured briefly by the idea that the house was abandoned. Then it occurred to me to wonder why Dad would be here if it was.

"Dad?" I called through the dark as I climbed the staircase. "Dad? Are you here? It's Bell." I heard a noise come from the direction of the top of the staircase, and I hurried my pace. "Dad? Is that you?"

Then I heard his voice. Muffled, but definitely him. "Bell?"

"Dad!" I ran in the direction of his voice, using the faint light that slipped in through the windows as my guide. I came to a hallway lined with doors. "Dad, where are you?"

"I'm here, Bell," he answered, and a knocking sound followed. "I'm behind this door."

I located the source of the voice behind the very last door at the end of the hallway, and I called through it, "I'm here, I've found you."

"Oh, dear stars, what are you doing here, Bell?" he asked me from the other side of the door. His relieved tone was nearly swallowed by urgency.

"I came to make sure you were safe. You didn't answer any of our comms and–"

"You have to go. Now, before he finds you!"

"What? Why?" I frowned. "Before who finds me?"

"It doesn't matter," he insisted. "Go, Bell. Get out of here."

"I'm not leaving without you," I told him firmly.

"You have to. You must be brave. Take good care of Henry and Violet." His voice changed; he was forcing confidence into it. "Don't worry, I'll be fine. Just go while you can. He shouldn't come back for a while yet."

" _Who_?"

"Mr. Tier," Dad hissed. The moment the words passed his lips, a dark figure appeared at the end of the hallway. A gasp escaped me, and Dad whispered, "What is it?"

My heart pounded almost out of my chest as the figure began walking purposefully down the hallway, right towards me. I couldn't think. Somehow I managed to form the words, "S-someone's here."

"Mr. Tier," Dad moaned, and I heard him slump against the door.

I shrank to the ground, hoping against hope that this 'Mr. Tier' wouldn't see me in the dark hall. He strode closer and closer until he stood right over me. I hugged my bag tightly to my chest and tried not to breathe.

"Well, Mr. O'Hara," he said in a voice smooth as silk but dangerous as a lion's roar, "it appears you have a visitor." He reached down and heaved me to my feet. "What's your name, girl?"

"Bell, sir," I gasped.

"Miss Bell, I suggest you leave this house. Now." He let go of me, but I didn't move.

"Not without my father," I said, praying I sounded much braver than I felt.

"Oh, he's your father?" He laughed. "I'm afraid you'll have to go fatherless, then."

Dad made a whimpering sound again.

"Why are you keeping him here like this?"

"He took a rose from my garden. He must pay for his thievery."

His words made my blood run cold. The rosebush by the steps. Dad had seen it and taken a rose for me, because I'd asked for it. It was my fault he was locked up here. Guilt and sorrow mingled in my heart. I knew what I had to do.

"Will you at least let me say goodbye?" I asked.

Mr. Tier seemed to consider, then said, "Alright." But he made no movement to open the door.

"I mean properly. I want to hug him one last time."

He grumbled and reached for the door handle. He turned a key in the lock and opened the door. Dad practically fell out of the room into my arms. He clutched me to his chest and I squeezed him tight. When we pulled away, I took in his silhouette, memorizing every detail of it, as I'm certain he did mine.

"That's enough," Mr. Tier growled behind us. "Say your goodbyes and be done. The door will lock automatically when it closes, and I'm not going to unlock it again just because you weren't finished."

I looked back at Mr. Tier and gasped. In the light from Dad's prison he was breathtakingly handsome. Too handsome. His neat hair was short and dark, his eyes grey like flint and cold as iron. His pale skin was too smooth, his nose too straight. But the thing that scared me the most were his clothes. He wore the blood-red robes of a second-tier thaumaturge.

I closed my eyes and swallowed hard. _You must be brave._

"I love you, Bell," Dad said, putting a hand on my shoulder. "I love you so much, and I'm going to miss you more than you could possibly know."

"I love you too, Dad. Take care of Henry and Violet for me. And tell her I'm sorry."

Before he could do more than frown in confusion, I slipped past him and into the room, slamming the door shut behind me. I leaned against it, my heart hammering in my chest, my head buzzing. I barely heard what went on outside, Dad's furious yelling and Mr. Tier's insistence that he didn't care who it was, as long as someone paid for the thievery. The sounds of their voices faded as they disappeared through the house. I supposed Mr. Tier was dragging Dad away to dump him outside, and I was oddly grateful for it. If he hadn't, Dad would never have left, and my actions wouldn't have helped anything.

I slumped to the floor next to my bag and leaned my head back to rest against the door. "Don't worry, Dad," I whispered. "I'll get out of here, I promise. Somehow, I will."


	7. Chapter 7

I don't know how long I sat there in silence before Mr. Tier came back. He knocked on the door and asked gruffly if I had a portscreen. I suddenly remembered the port in my pocket and wondered if I could get a comm out to the Rampion crew from here.

"No," I answered, pulling it out and clicking in a message. But before I could finish, the door unlocked and swung inwards, forcing me to stand.

Mr. Tier stepped in, his eyes hard as they glared at the port in my hand. "Give it to me," he commanded.

I stepped back, away from his outstretched hand, but then stepped forwards again. My body moved of its own volition, holding the port out to the thaumaturge and stepping me closer to him. He took it, nodded, and left. The clunk of the lock came again, and I was alone.

My breath came hard and fast. Manipulation. Glamour. I'd read about this as well. How could I have forgotten it? The fear that Mr. Tier had struck through me at our first meeting deepened considerably. Thaumaturges were notorious for their powerful glamours and for the cruelty with which they wielded it. And here I was, entirely at his mercy. A burning anger overtook the cold fear in my chest. I would not let him manipulate me. Never again. _But it's not like I can resist it,_ a timid voice in my head reminded me.

Shoulders slumping, I looked around at the room that was to be my home for the foreseeable future. A double bed with a downy quilt had its head against one wall, a large wardrobe stood against another, and a desk with a glass vase occupied by dead flowers on top sat further down the same wall. A doorway by the bed led into a private bathroom. I walked to the only window, a rectangle of solid glass at the opposite end of the room from the door. It was completely dark outside now, and all I could see was the Earth far above, hanging in the sky as if it were the moon. Only, I was on the moon. And I might never go back to Earth again.

With a wistful sigh, I began to examine the windowpane. It appeared to be secured on all sides with no chance of opening at all. Clearly, Mr. Tier was not a fan of fresh breezes blowing through the house. To get out I'd have to break the glass, and until morning came I couldn't know if there was a way down.

With these revelations, I decided not to waste my energy on trying to escape that night. But that didn't mean I wouldn't take precautions.

I removed the dead flowers from the vase on the desk and laid them on the table. Then I pulled the pajamas out of my bag and wrapped them around the vase before setting the bundle on the ground and stomping all over it. I scattered the broken glass in front of the door and made a mental note to keep my boots on, just in case. I was a light sleeper, so there was no way Mr. Tier or anyone else could sneak in without my hearing them. And if they happened to come in without shoes on…served them right.

I put my bag by the bed and tucked myself in, fully dressed, shoes and all. If I was going to be stuck in this house with a thaumaturge, even for one night, I would take no chances.


	8. Chapter 8

It was the fake sunrise beaming in through the window that woke me up the next morning. I opened my eyes a crack, and at the sight of the broken glass that still embellished the carpet, doleful memories returned speedily to my mind. With a groan, I slipped out of my bed and tiptoed to the window. Peeking out, all I saw was a smooth wall the entire twenty feet down to the back garden. No ledges, no windows, nothing to grip onto. Just a sheer drop to the bottom. Aces. The net dramas made it look so easy. Still, it was the only option I could see, so I got to work.

I tore the bedsheets from my bed and tied them together end-to-end into a rope. A bit cliché, but again, the net dramas seemed to think it was effective. The final problem was breaking the window quietly. I looked around my room for inspiration, but none came. I'd just have to hope that I could get far away before someone discovered what I was doing.

I grabbed the chair from the desk, hoisted it so that its feet pointed at the window, then ran full tilt until the chair and window made contact. The force of the impact knocked me back a couple steps. A heavy ringing came from the glass, but it didn't break.

I growled in frustration. Surely someone would have heard that. However, after several moments of listening intently, it appeared that no one was on their way to see what was going on. So I tried again. And again. And again. The glass didn't even chip.

I put the chair down on its legs, which were now considerably more wobbly than they had been before, and scanned the room for any other possible means of escape. Before I could find anything, however, the lock on the door clicked, and three servant-droids wheel into the room, their treads crunching over the glass on the carpet.

"Good morning, miss," said the one in front. Androids didn't strictly have genders, but this one sounded distinctly matronly. "Would you like some breakfast?" She held up a tray laden with plates of toast, eggs, fruit, and a glass of milk.

I was so surprised by the visitors that I nodded without thinking. I _was_ hungry, after all, not having eaten since the afternoon before. The first serv-droid beckoned for me to sit down on the chair, so, in a sort of daze, I did. She set the tray on my lap and I ate slowly, watching the three androids clean their way around my room. They were so efficient that by the time I'd finished eating, the whole room was almost spotless.

Then they came to the pile of broken glass in front of the door.

"Why did you break the vase?" one asked.

"Because I didn't want anyone to sneak in during the night."

They swiveled their heads around to look at each other, and began to chuckle.

I frowned. "What's so funny?"

"No one in this house would try to sneak in while you were sleeping, miss," the first android said kindly.  
"How was I supposed to know that?" I asked doubtfully.

"There was no reason for you to know it, I suppose. But now you do!" the second one remarked cheerfully, holding his arms out in a ta-da gesture.

The first android gasped. "Oh, how rude of us! We haven't introduced ourselves." The other two seemed to share her shock at their own lack of manners. "My name is Pots, miss."

"I'm Lumi," the second said with a flourish of his hands.

"And I'm Chip!" the third exclaimed.

Pots shushed him. "We mustn't be too loud. The master's still asleep."

I flashed them a smile that was closer to a grimace, then said in a clipped voice, "Nice to meet you. I'm Bell. Thanks for the breakfast. I'm leaving now." I stood, set the tray on the desk, snatched up my bag, and strode briskly for the open door.

"No!" Lumi cried, blocking the door with his three-foot-tall mechanical body. "You can't go!"

"And why not?" I asked indignantly, trying to step over him. He held his arms over his head to stop me.

"Because you're the master's guest–"

"Guest!" I scoffed.

"And we promised him we wouldn't let you go. We gave our _wor_ _d,_ miss," Lumi pleaded.

I glanced back to see the other two nodding.

"We haven't had a guest for _so_ long," Chip moaned. "Please stay, Miss Bell."

They all stared imploringly at me.

Sighing, I nodded and walked away from the door. "Alright. I'll stay."

"Oh, _thank_ you, miss!" the androids cried in unison, hurrying over and wrapping their stiff little arms around my legs.

"Okay, you can let go now." I carefully extracted myself from their rubber grips, and they beamed up at me with joy glowing in their luminescent eyes. "I thought Lunars didn't have serv-droids. I thought they didn't like anything they couldn't manipulate."

"That is the usual order of things," agreed Lumi, tilting his head to one side, "but the master's mother and father were different. They were very kind and didn't like to glamour others for fun. They saw how practical it would be to have serv-droids to keep up a large home such as this."

"Yes, and they were a private family," added Pots. "They wanted servants they could trust."

"And we're the most trustworthy of them all!" cried Chip, before Pots shushed him again.

"Right," I said. "Well, I'd like some privacy now, please."

"Of course, miss," said Pots. The trio wheeled to the door, but they stopped before the glass and looked down at the mess I'd made.

"Are you sure you don't want us to clean this up?" Lumi asked.

"Very sure."

The androids echoed their thanks again and again as they closed the door. I couldn't help but notice that they didn't lock it behind them. As soon as the sound of their wheels had faded away, I slowly turned the handle and eased the door open. The hallway was empty, so I slipped out of my room and crept along it, wary of any sounds that might indicate the approach of Mr. Tier or the androids.

In the daytime, the house was almost as dim and dingy as it had been the night before. After straining my eyes for several minutes just to find my way, I gave up and thrust the curtains wide in an area I thought to be some sort of living room. The false sunlight burst in like a wave, illuminating the heaps of dust which coated the sofas and chairs scattered about the room. Apparently the androids didn't try quite as hard to keep the house clean as they did my room.

Disgust wrinkled my nose as I surveyed the rest of the house, opening curtains and–when possible–windows as I went. Almost every room I found was just as filthy as the first. Eventually I discovered a basement, complete with a pile of unused cleaning supplies, also hidden under heaps of dust. I brushed the rags and spray bottles off and loaded them into a basket, then carried them upstairs to begin my task. If I was going to live here, it might as well be clean. And besides, it wasn't like I had any books to keep me busy.

Speaking of which, I felt very unlike the heroines in those books as I scrubbed the foyer from top to bottom: dusting, wiping, sanitizing. I was mopping the floor when Chip rolled in.

He froze in the doorway, and there was a moment of hesitation before he asked, "What are you doing, Miss Bell?"

I mopped another wide arc, then stopped and put a hand on my hip. "I'm cleaning."

"Why?"

"Why do you think?" I waved an arm around, gesturing at everything in general. "This place is disgusting!"

"…Oh."

I rolled my eyes and kept mopping.

"Let us help, Miss Bell. It is our job, after all," Chip offered.

I ignored him, but he zipped away and returned with Pots and Lumi at his heels.

"We're so sorry you felt you should take it on yourself to clean this room, miss," Pots said, trying to take the mop from me.

I pulled it from her reach. "The whole mansion, actually."

Lumi groaned.

"If it's your job, why haven't you done it?" I demanded.

"The master didn't care, and he even told us not to clean," Lumi despaired. "That was two months ago."

"Well, your 'master' has no sense. Did he also tell you to make it as dirty as possible? There's no way a house could get this dirty in two months without some help."

The three serv-droids suddenly became very interested in the floor tiles.

I sighed. "Whatever. If you want to help, go ahead."

Chip, Pots, and Lumi buzzed into action, and we finished the foyer in no time. We proceeded to move around the house, cleaning one room at a time until my arms ached so much I couldn't even hold up a wash rag. By the time evening rolled around, we had finished about three-quarters of the first floor. We didn't see Mr. Tier all day, not even at lunchtime.

While Lumi and Chip put away the cleaning supplies, Pots led me to the kitchen, where I practically fell into the nearest chair. I was pleased to see that the kitchen, at least, was clean. Pots served me a bowl of stew and I gratefully dug in. I'd only eaten one mouthful, however, when Mr. Tier appeared in the doorway.

"What are you doing down here?" he asked me. His expression was perfectly blank, but I was certain he was angry. Something in me burned with the unyielding desire not to let him win. I had done nothing wrong, and neither had Pots.

"I'm serving her dinner, master," Pots told him.

"Why is she out of her room?"

"Because your androids were nice enough to let me out," I sallied, forcing myself to stare him unblinkingly in the eye while spooning stew into my mouth. "Seems they have a better idea of how to treat houseguests than others I could name."

His smooth features darkened, and he turned on Pots.

"She promised she wouldn't try to escape, master," Pots explained hurriedly, shrinking back.

"I did," I confirmed as calmly as I could. I was going to show him I wasn't afraid, no matter how my heart galloped.

Mr. Tier took a deep breath and looked me straight in the eye. Somehow I managed to meet his gaze unwaveringly until he said, "Then, Miss Bell, I ask that you dine with me tonight."

My heart stopped altogether then. Part of me thought that perhaps I had misheard him. But no, he was really asking me to eat with him. And he was waiting for an answer.

"Alright. I will." I immediately regretted the words, but I couldn't take them back without looking weak.

Mr. Tier nodded slowly and said, "Meet me in the dining hall in fifteen minutes."

He left me slouching in my chair, open-mouthed. I looked down at my stew. All of a sudden didn't seem so appetizing.

Lumi and Chip arrived and instantly knew something was wrong, but I let Pots explain.

"He's really not that bad, miss," Pots reassured me gently. "Now, you should run upstairs and get changed out of that dress. Put on some fresh clothes." A pause. "You're welcome to use anything you find in the wardrobe."

I nodded dully and trudged upstairs, too stunned to think.


	9. Chapter 9

Ten dreadful minutes later, I descended those same stairs in a white sleeveless dress. Clusters of blue flowers made of material that shimmered rainbows in the light dotted the knee-length skirt. A blue sash wrapped just below my chest and reached over my shoulder. The neckline dipped lower than I would have liked, and the whole thing seemed determined to be as uncomfortable as possible, but it was the least dressy thing I had found in that wardrobe, and at least it fit. Stars, Lunar styles are so irritating.

Mr. Tier was already waiting for me when I arrived in the dining hall, which the androids and I had scrubbed clean only a couple hours before. He sat at one end of the long table and gestured for me to sit at the other. He winced, almost imperceptibly, as he observed my dress. I didn't blame him; I would've done the same.

I followed his directions and sat in my chair, head held high, jaw tight. Lumi and Chip wordlessly served the stew and zipped away with a rumble of rubber treads.

Mr. Tier began to eat, delicately sipping the brown liquid from his spoon. He had eaten three spoonfuls when he noticed I hadn't touched mine. His frown foretold the coming conflict.

"You should eat, Miss Bell," he said.

My voice quivered as I replied stiffly, "Thank you, but I am not hungry."

His frown deepened. "You will eat."

"I've had enough already."

"I don't know how it is on Earth, but on Luna it is considered an insult not to eat the food served to you from your host's kitchen." Mr. Tier's tone was sharp.

"I don't consider you my host, so you will forgive me if I do not eat."

He sat back in his chair and rested his chin on a finger. Of its own accord, my hand began to move to the spoon that lay untouched by my bowl. My breathing quickened as my hand scooped a serving of stew to my mouth. I fought to halt its movement, but to no avail.

Mr. Tier watched as the entire bowl of stew was scooped spoon by spoon into my mouth, until there was nothing left but the spices swimming in a puddle at the bottom of the bowl. As soon as I regained full control of my own limbs, I jumped to my feet and hurled the spoon across the table. It spun through the air on its route directly toward Mr. Tier's face.

He caught it midair, two inches from his nose, and set it down on the table next to his own. I glared at him, then stormed out of the room, making sure each of my steps echoed against the empty walls. I didn't hear him following me, but just before I reached the stairs, a cold hand grabbed mine. I whipped around and found myself face-to-face with my captor.

"Come back to the dining hall, Miss Bell," he said. "Dinner is not yet over."

I fumed for a moment, too angry for words. Then I looked up at his perfect face–the polished features and marble skin–and slapped it across the cheek. He didn't even blink. His face remained a mask of indifference as a red mark sprang into view on the side of his face.

"I will _not_ be manipulated like that," I hissed. "I promised your androids I wouldn't try to escape, but I will gladly break that promise if you continue to bend my will."

He released my hand but stayed silent, waiting patiently for me to continue.

I obliged all too eagerly. "You're a monster, Mr. Tier. Nothing but a monster who hides behind a glamoured mask, and I will not be your puppet. You can keep me locked up here, but I do _not_ have to give in!"

He still stared, almost sadly, I thought. The lack of reaction maddened me more than anything else could have.

"Say something," I yelled, balling my hands into fists. "Apologize, threaten me, anything! Don't just stand there!"

I slapped him again, and then, when there was still no reaction, I stomped up the stairs and back to my room. I threw myself onto the bed and fumed for what felt like hours. Eventually I took a deep breath and forced myself think practically. I promised myself that if something like this ever happened again, I would walk right out the door, never to return.

The silky touch of the borrowed Lunar dress against my skin was too much of a reminder of my sorry situation, so I tore it off and changed into my pajamas.

My muscles ached from the hours of scrubbing and polishing, and my heart ached from missing my family. Flopping back onto the bed, I was tempted to pin the blame for it on Mr. Tier, but I knew I couldn't. After all, I had chosen this. I had done this to save my father. I had no one to blame but myself.


	10. Chapter 10

The next day, I gained a new respect for serv-droids.

They weren't as boring and personality-less as I had always assumed. As we continued cleaning the house, the trio babbled on about any subject, from the state of the house to the queen to the latest celebrity gossip, and I was glad for the distraction. I didn't want to think about the events of the previous evening. Even the thought of Mr. Tier was unwelcome.

The day wore on quickly, and it was mid-afternoon by the time we finished scouring yet another guest bedroom, and I asked, "Was that the last room to be cleaned, or have we missed some?"

The androids huddled together and spoke in low voices for a few seconds, then Chip exclaimed, with an excited light in his eyes, "Follow me, Miss Bell!" He swiveled around and zipped away. He led Pots, Lumi, and me to an ornate set of double doors and pushed them open grandly. The room inside was dark, but Chip entered, and a few seconds later, a wide curtain drew back, flooding light across a dusty expanse.

Despite the musty air, I couldn't help but gasp. We had entered a ballroom, stately and grand. A broad rectangular room covered in cobwebs, the ballroom still shimmered with the light that shone from the glass ornaments embedded in the walls and ceiling. A high balcony circumscribed the hall, reached by two staircases: one on the left wall, one on the right. The window opposite the door offered a sparkling view across the lake and toward the palace. A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, casting rainbows upon the walls, defying the dust which dulled its shine.

"Do you like it, Miss Bell?" Chip asked, his electronic eyes wide.

"Yes," I breathed. "I like it very much." Planting my hands on my hips, I looked down at the droids and added, "And I'll like it even more when it's been cleaned. Let's get to work."

Before long, the marble floor was so polished it became a mirror, the long, red curtains had been shampooed to their former velvety selves, and every jewel on the chandelier had been cleared of its mask of dust. Every surface glittered in the evening golds melting through the window.

I stood in the middle of the room and spun slowly, admiring our work. Violet would have killed just to catch a glimpse of a real-life ballroom such as this. It radiated a magnificence I'd never seen back home, save for in my own imagination. A smile tugged at my lips. It was beautiful, just like something out of a fairytale.

"I'll fetch you when dinner's ready," Pots told me, and she and her compatriots withdrew from the room, leaving me alone.

With no one else around, I couldn't help but daydream. In that shining heaven, I could almost imagine myself to be in one of my books.

 _I wore a long, flowing ball gown; my hair was tied up elegantly. A tall, handsome gentleman awaited me at the other end of the room. I swept gracefully through the dancing pairs and took his proffered arm as he led me in a waltz. We swayed to the violin, twirled to the flute. He was a prince, and I was his princess._

No. No, my life wasn't like that at all, and there was no point in pretending it was. I stopped dancing and looked around again. The ballroom now looked dull, old, tiresome. With a sigh, I ran a hand through my hair and let my head fall back.

As I did, something caught my eye: a plain, unassuming door on the balcony, to the right of the window. My curiosity was piqued. I hurried up the stairs and to the door. Glancing across the room, I realized there were two more doors opening off of the balcony on the opposite wall. The droids had cleaned the balconies, which might have explained why I hadn't noticed the doors earlier.

 _I'll get to those later,_ I told myself, and I turned the handle.

Inside was a narrow staircase of undecorated white marble leading upwards and around a corner. Unsurprisingly, each stair held a thick coat of dust. However, each stair also bore two footprints: one going up, and one going down.

My curiosity heightened, a golden spark setting off a series of questions in my brain. I slowly followed the footsteps, careful to put my foot exactly within the one in the dust. At the top of the stairs was a dark, neglected room–practically an attic. In the dim light of a single small, square window, I could see a pile of boxes sitting in one corner, while old rugs and lamps adorned another. Two or three smashed portscreens lay in random places around the room. My eyes wandered for a moment before being drawn to a red glow at the opposite end of the attic.

I took a couple tentative steps, squinting through the musty darkness. There, hanging against the wall, was a mirror. An ornate frame of silver surrounded the oval looking-glass, shining hauntingly in the light from the window. In the middle of the glass, a number glowed red: fifteen. I drew closer, intrigued. The mirror was the one thing in this room that wasn't dusty. Not a speck marred its perfect reflection. It had been hung with care on its own wall, for when I looked around, I noticed that nothing else even _brushed_ the wall on which it perched.

A sharp noise from downstairs made me jump, and I told myself I would only take a quick look, then I would leave. I approached the mirror cautiously, afraid of causing any sound. Holding my breath, I reached out a hand and brushed my fingers against the silver frame. A loud beep came from the mirror, and I leapt back. The number had changed to fourteen.

"What are you doing here?" a voice roared behind me, and I spun around to find Mr. Tier looming at the top of the stairs. "Get out!"

"I'm sorry!" I squeaked. "I didn't–"

"Out!"

He didn't have to use his glamour to convince me. I squeezed past him and fled down the stairs. In my scramble to leave, I slipped on the newly waxed floor of the ballroom, but with ice-cold fear to spur me on, I couldn't stay down for long. I raced through the mansion to my room. I slammed the door behind me and gripped the door handle. The tighter I held it, the more slippery my fingers became.

When I could no longer keep a hold on the handle, I huddled on my bed and rocked back and forth, hugging my knees and squeezing my eyes closed, terrified that at any moment I would hear Mr. Tier's stormy approach. I had to get out of there.

I threw myself off the bed and snatched up my bag. Throwing caution to the wind, I unlocked the door and fled down the hallway. Mr. Tier was nowhere to be seen. The false light was rapidly fading outside, and the house appeared grim and shady, just like the night I'd arrived. The feeling of panic hadn't changed since then, either. The only sign it was a different night was the chemical smell of cleaning supplies wafting through each room I passed.

I dashed past Chip and Lumi, accidentally whacking them with my bag as they stared at me in bewilderment.

"Where are you going, miss?" they cried after me.

"I'm leaving," I muttered, not caring whether or not they heard me.

I swept down the stairs of the foyer and across the polished floor to the grand front door that I'd so timidly pushed open only two days ago. Now I tugged it open with all my might and let it crash against the wall. I stopped in the doorway and looked back. Mr. Tier stood at the top of the stairs, watching me with a strangely blank expression. My panic began to fade, and a hesitance slipped into my head. No, that hesitance didn't belong to me. It was glamour.

Anger–true, natural anger–washed over me, and I ran out the door. Down the steps, past the rosebush, out the gate. I ran and ran through the streets of Artemisia without a care where I ended up. My bag bumped against my legs with every slap of my shoes against the shining, crowded pavement as I disappeared into the city.


	11. Chapter 11

I don't know how long I ran, but by the time I stumbled to a halt and took in my surroundings, night had fully engulfed the city. I was clearly no longer in the glamorous part of town. A few flickering street lamps spread dim light onto the street, and every home was shuttered tight, even though it couldn't have been terribly late in the evening. A pub on the corner emitted music and shouting. A faint scent of rotting fruit wrinkled my nose. It dawned on me that I was in a strange city, in a dangerous neighborhood, without a friend or any clue how to get out. I instantly regretted how recklessly I'd navigated my path.

The shouts from the pub grew louder as the door opened, and three men staggered out. In the light spared me by the street lamps, I caught a glimpse of their faces. They had enormous, hairy jaws, and when they opened their mouths, sharp, dog-like teeth became visible. Mutants.

I'd heard only horror stories of these soldiers, taken as children and turned into bloodthirsty monsters forced to work for Queen Levana. They had been sent to terrorize Earth only a few months before, and many thousands of people had been killed by their ravaging. Thankfully, none had come near my tiny village, and my family and our friends remained safe during the war, but the mention of the mutants still sent goosebumps skittering over my skin. After all, many of the soldiers had rejoiced when Queen Selene set them free, but there were still a few whom I'd heard would kill at any chance they got.

 _Maybe they won't see me,_ I told myself, standing still as a statue. _Maybe they aren't the rogues I've heard about._

No such luck.

The mutant in the lead held out a hand to halt his comrades. He sniffed the air audibly, and then, with a ghastly grin illuminated in the lamplight, he turned towards me.

I couldn't think. I couldn't breathe. I should have run, but my adrenaline had already flooded from my limbs, taking my energy with it.

"What do you smell, Rawls?"

Rawls's companions raised their own noses and peered through the shadows at my trembling figure.

"Lost, are we, little Earthen?" one of the men asked as together, they advanced on me.

I took an impulsive step back as they drew closer. I could hear their raspy breathing even from across the street.

"Oh, no, don't run," coaxed Rawls. "We want to help you find your way home. It's been so _very_ long since we had a good meal…"

I retreated further. My fists tightened around the handle of my bag until my fingers ached. My back hit something, and I wheeled around, afraid I'd see another mutant, but it was just a fence. _Just a fence_. More like just a trap. The mutants had spread out, so gradually I hadn't noticed until the maneuver was complete, but now there was no escape. No way out. I pressed myself against the fence, hoping against hope that it would give way and I could vanish into the darkness.

"Leave me alone," I pleaded. "I don't want any trouble."

" _Leave me alone,_ " the mutant on the left mimicked in a high voice. The right-hand mutant sniggered and stepped closer.

They were only a few feet from me now, spread in a semicircle around me. This close, I could see a bite mark in the ear of the one on the right, and a ragged scar across the nose of the mutant on the right. I didn't know their names, of course, but the one part of my brain still working told me that Bite and Scarface seemed good titles for them. Because that was helpful to know when I was about to die. Rawls held himself tall, like an army general, but an beastly hunger glinted in his eye as he surveyed me. In desperation, I swung my bag at Rawls. He dug his claws into the fabric and tore it from my grasp. Clothes tumbled from the bag as he chucked it to the ground.

"Pathetic," he sneered.

Bite bared his teeth and snarled, "Hold still, Earthen. This won't hurt a bit."

I squeezed my eyes shut and braced myself for the sharp bite of pain and then nothingness. Instead, I heard a yelp and a growl and heard something thump on the ground at my feet. Easing one eye open, the sight which greeted me tugged a gasp from my lips.

Mr. Tier stood in the middle of the street, his blood-red robe draped over his broad shoulders and his skin painted pure white against the twilight. His grey eyes flashed in the cold light of the street lamps as they swept disdainfully over the two mutants still looming before me and over Bite, twitching at my feet.

Rawls glared right back at him with the same contempt, but Scarface's posture was hesitant.

"Leave her alone." The order came from Mr. Tier.

"Why should we?" asked the leader.

Mr. Tier stepped closer. "I'm sure you remember what happens to those bold enough to disobey an order." He pointed at Bite. "He just got an unpleasant reminder."

The men glanced at each other.

"Of course we remember," Rawls grunted, "but you are weak, Thaumaturge Tier. You haven't stretched yourself in quite some time. You could control one, maybe two of us, but three?" The knife-like tips of his canines peeked menacingly from between his lips. "We're too many for you."

Mr. Tier said nothing. With footsteps as deliberate and noiseless as the hungry wolves they were, Rawls and Scarface left me and began to prowl towards Mr. Tier. Bite remained motionless.

How easily I could have run away right then and never returned. How simple it would have been to run to the palace and from there back to Earth, and to never have to think about mutants or thaumaturges again. So why wouldn't my feet take me? Why was I still pressed against a fence, staring at this man who'd imprisoned my father and then myself, who'd killed who knew how many people in his lifetime, and who could, in a few short moments, pay for his actions with his life? Why should I care for his safety?

The men circled Mr. Tier, who still did nothing. Scarface seemed to be waiting for an order, a signal from Rawls. Bite watched the scene through eyes dark with anger. He seemed held to the ground by some invisible force.

I don't know what the signal was. All I know is that my breath caught in my throat as, all of a sudden, both Scarface and Rawls lunged at Mr. Tier in a burst of teeth and claws. Scarface instantly crumpled to the ground whimpering, while Rawls was backhanded by Mr. Tier's swift fist. He backpedaled and fell in a trembling heap next to Scarface.

Bite rose from the ground as swiftly as a sparrow takes to flight, but just as swiftly, Mr. Tier slipped a pistol from his robe and pointed the black barrel at the mutant. Bite hardly slowed. He knocked the gun from the thaumaturge's hand just as it fired and pounced upon his prey. The shot disappeared harmlessly into the night, but the sharp sound elicited a shriek from my lungs.

The gun clattered to the ground a few feet in front of where I stood, just within the reach of Rawls. He didn't look up but instead continued trembling, in what seemed to be intense pain.

Mr. Tier and his attacker wrestled silently, the mutant attempting to bite Mr. Tier's neck, and Mr. Tier trying with all his might to throw Bite from himself. The only sounds were a few grunts and my heart pounding in my chest. It had never occurred to me how quiet a fight could really be, even in the middle of an abandoned street at night. Just another item to add to my list of facts I never wanted to learn.

Scarface still writhed on the ground, but Rawls pushed himself weightily from the pavement. His gaze locked on the gun and then on me. In the space of a breath, I calculated my chances of reaching the gun first. He would of course be faster than me, but I was much closer. By my reckoning, it would be a tie, and a tie could–no, _would_ –mean death. So be it. I would die anyway if I let him have the pistol. I might as well go down with a fight.

We eyed each other for a long moment, then I ran. He ran, too. Our frantic footsteps were added to the sounds of the night. It was a panicked race, the girl versus the soldier, both sprinting for their lives for only a few breathless moments–

Then the gun was in my shaking hands, Rawls only a stride away. He stopped short and scowled as I raised the barrel to point at his chest, fear clawing at my insides even though I had already won. I pulled my finger tighter over the trigger, taking a deep breath before the shot.

A strained outburst from Mr. Tier broke my resolution. A few feet away, he and his attacker still struggled, but Mr. Tier was steadily losing ground. Bite's teeth crept closer and closer to his neck.

It dawned on me that I didn't know how many bullets the pistol contained. What if there was only one left? I had to decide immediately–should I save Mr. Tier or myself? Which mutant should I shoot? Who knew if the gun would even fire if I pulled the trigger right then? My gaze darted between the two soldiers. Rawls was regaining his confidence, and he looked ready to pounce. My trembling grip had revealed my inexperience.

Rawls took a step closer to me, his eyes gleaming hungrily. I pointed the gun straight into his face and tightened my finger over the trigger.

Mr. Tier yelled. Blood deepened the red of his robes as it spread over his shoulder. He'd prevented Bite's teeth from reaching his neck, but he couldn't deflect the bite completely. He faltered, and the soldier leaned in for another bite.

BANG!

Bite lost his grip on Mr. Tier and slid to the pavement.

I stared in horror at the smoking barrel of my gun. My hands weren't shaking anymore. I heard a snarl beside me, and before I could think, I swiveled and shot the soldier now advancing on me. I gaped as Rawls cried out in pain.

He clutched his arm, baring his teeth threateningly at me. Scarface scrambled to his feet, and the two of them scuttled off into the night, staring daggers over their shoulders.

I found myself staring into nothingness, trying to process what had just happened. I hadn't meant to shoot. I hadn't made up my mind yet. Slowly, it dawned on me: I hadn't pulled the trigger. Someone else had made up my mind for me. Horror chilled my gut. The gun slipped through my limp fingers and clattered to the street.

Mr. Tier had made me kill a man.


	12. Chapter 12

A groan trembled through the dark, and I turned in time to see Mr. Tier tumble to the ground beside the fallen mutant.

The mutant I had killed.

My jaw tightened. Why not leave Mr. Tier to fend for himself? He deserved it, didn't he? But… He had saved my life. Could I really leave him here, wounded and alone, simply because he had taken a single decision from me—a decision that had saved _both_ our lives?

Stars above, what was I thinking? Of _course_ I had to help him. "Mr. Tier?" I called softly.

His breathing was heavy and broken, and even though he was only a shadow, I could see that his injured shoulder was tensed. "Bell… Get away from here…"

"That would be stupid. You're hurt. Badly. How do I call the med-droids?" I knelt beside him and reached into my pocket. Empty. Mr. Tier still had my portscreen.

"No. No med-droids. Just need to get to my house. I'll be fine, just go." He shifted away from me and gasped. "Stars above," he muttered.

I frowned. "You're not fine, and you know it. Don't bother trying to be one of those heroes who can handle any amount of pain. I've read enough books to know how idealistic that is. The bad news? They're books. Pain is real, and there's no shame in admitting it."

Mr. Tier laughed softly. "You sound like my mother."

"I've had a lot of practice," I replied, my thoughts drifting to Henry and Violet back home. Thank the stars they were back home in the United Kingdom where they were safe, where they belonged—where _I_ belonged. None of us belonged on Luna or anywhere near this dismal scene. Nodding—but not looking—at the mutant, I asked, "What do we do with him?"

"He'll be fine."

"Fine?" I cried. "He's dead!"

Mr. Tier scrunched up his face and replied in a tone barely audible, "No. Just unconscious. Didn't hit anything—" he sucked a breath through his teeth "—vital."

I forced myself to observe the mutant's chest. Sure enough, it rose and fell in a steady rhythm.

He wasn't dead. I hadn't killed him.

A laugh rang out, and I realized it had come from my own lungs. I wanted to scream for all Artemisia to hear: I hadn't killed the mutant! But then Mr. Tier coughed and groaned. This was no time or place for rejoicing.

"Shouldn't we get help for him?" I asked Mr. Tier. "Why can't we call the med-droids?"

He shook his head and relaxed a little; the pain seemed to have eased for the moment. "His friends will be back to carry him off. We'd be putting ourselves in danger by helping him. As for the med-droids, there are…complicated issues between myself and the queen, and she would be sure to find out if a thaumaturge had been injured." He paused a second, and in a strained voice, he continued, "Trust me, it would be best to go back to my place."

"Alright, fine. How do I get you there?" I twisted my head, scanning the dark houses lining the street. " _Someone_ must have a stretcher I can borrow."

Blood still poured from Mr. Tier's many wounds, even those that were nothing but scratches. I put pressure on the gash on his shoulder, ignoring his grunts, and looked around for help.A single illuminated building caught my eye. The pub on the corner. Mr. Tier followed my gaze.

"Bell, no, bad idea," he said. "There could be more special operatives in there, and they won't be happy to know you've attacked others of their kind."

"I attacked _them_?"

"I know it's ridiculous, but they tend to see it that way, especially when intoxicated. Please, I'm begging you, just get away from here. Go to the palace, go back to Earth if you want to, just leave." His gaze locked on mine. "For your own safety."

I studied him long and hard: the bleeding body on the hard concrete, the red robes pooled around him, the tight jaw that emphasized the sincerity etched on the too-perfect face. "You're a thaumaturge," I began. "You've commanded the deaths of hundreds, maybe thousands of innocent people. You obeyed Queen Levana's orders without question. You kidnapped my father and myself. You took me from my home, my friends, and my family."

He held his breath. I saw a flicker of hope cross his face.

"But you know what else you did? You saved my life. And I can't just leave you here to die." Before he could object, I leapt to my feet and sprinted to the pub.

Music blasted my eardrums as I opened the door and stepped inside. A few sets of eyes turned my way, but most ignored me. I made my way to the bar and got the waitress's attention.

The lady sauntered in my direction and cast a critical eye over me. She didn't look much older than me, but she put one hand on an impossibly tiny waist and asked, "Aren't you a little young to be ordering something, honey?"

"I'm not ordering anything. I need to know if you have a stretcher or something similar."

She scratched the corner of her crimson lip and frowned. "We always keep one in the back, just in case anyone needs help getting out the door." She paused. "Why do you need it?"

"A friend of mine has been hurt, and I need to get him home. Please, can I borrow it? I promise I'll bring it back." I hoped my tone sounded urgent and sincere enough.

The waitress frowned. "I guess so. Just give me a second. I'll be right back." She disappeared into a back room.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a table of men who had noticed me. They stared quite blatantly, either too rude or too drunk to be discreet. I decided to assume they were wondering why someone as young as myself was in a place like this. Even so, I had to suppress the urge to glare at them and instead pretended I hadn't noticed them. I couldn't afford to make a scene.

The waitress took her time collecting the stretcher. I tapped my fingers impatiently on the counter as I waited and tried not to think about how Mr. Tier was losing more blood with every second that passed.

Finally, she reappeared pushing a hovering bed before her. I took it from her and left so quickly I hardly had time to thank her.

Mr. Tier lay right where I had left him, a puddle of blood slowly spreading across the cement beneath him, although I couldn't tell if it belonged to him or the mutant. I guided the stretcher to him and fumbled with the buttons until it lowered to the ground beside him. With a little help, he managed to roll himself onto it. When he was comfotably situated, I raised the stretcher and glanced around me, trying to remember the way I had come from.

"That way," Mr. Tier said faintly and pointed past the pub.

I gripped the stretcher and we began our journey through the dark streets of Artemisia.


	13. Chapter 13

"How is he?" I asked Pots the next morning. We had arrived back at the mansion late at night, having avoided public transport and skirted around heavily populated areas of the city. I'd barely slept a wink, but I wasn't tired. If anything, I was more alert than I'd been in my entire life. Every swish of a curtain made me jump, every click of machinery made me wince.

The little droid replied, "He's better than he was last night, miss. You gave us quite a scare, running away like that. And coming back with the master in such a state? It was almost enough to blow my circuits!" She draped a hand over where her heart would have been and bowed her head in silence. She continued in a quieter tone, "He left here only a few minutes after you did. Followed you all across the city. I think he knew you would find trouble, and he wanted to keep you safe. The master is an honorable man."

 _He's a thaumaturge,_ I thought instinctively. Recoiling from my own bitterness, I asked, "May I see him?"

"He's sleeping right now, miss, but perhaps later."

I nodded and went to my bedroom. No sooner had I slumped onto my bed, not to sleep but to calm my anxious thoughts, than a sharp knock came on the door. I shrieked and flopped with a deep thump onto the carpet.

"Come in," I called, peeking over the bed at the door. The door opened and Chip rolled in.

"Sorry to disturb you, Miss Bell," he said.

"You aren't disturbing me." I got to my feet and clambered back onto the bed, trying—and probably failing—to look like I meant to be on the floor. I laid on my stomach and watched him make intricate tracks across the plush carpet. "What's up?"

His patterns only sped up as he blurted, "Why is the master hurt? Where did you go last night? What happened? Why–"

"Whoa, whoa." I giggled. "Slow down. One question at a time."

"Who hurt Mr. Tier?" He stopped dead in the middle of the floor and turned his wide electrical eyes to me.

That was simple enough to answer. "It was a special operative. A group of them were about to hurt me when Mr. Tier showed up and stopped them."

I could almost hear the gears whirring inside Chip's head as he were deliberated over what to ask next.

"So why…" he began slowly, then paused. "Why did you leave in the first place? Don't you like us? Haven't we treated you well?"

I winced. This was the question I had hoped wouldn't come up. "It's not that I don't like _you…_ " How could I explain? How do you tell the faithful servant that his master isn't the saint he believes him to be? And then how do you explain that a tiny piece of your own heart might actually believe it, too? "I don't know, Chip. I just had to leave."

"Oh…" He looked down at his rubber-grip fingers. "I don't want you to leave, Miss Bell."

My heart twisted, and I became suddenly very interested in the blanket beneath me.

"Oh! The master's awake!" Chip exclaimed. "Pots just commed me; you can go and talk to him now."

"Tell her I'll be right there." I slid off the bed and out the door, my insides churning as I tried to decide on what I wanted to say to Mr. Tier.

When we had arrived back the night before, Mr. Tier had kept himself awake long enough to be escorted into the master bedroom by the serv-droids while I was left in the hallway outside. They reported that he'd fallen unconscious mere moments after being laid on the bed. Pots insisted on tending to his wounds alone, and I was too shaken to object.

I came to his bedroom door now to find it cracked open slightly, and I was about to knock when I heard voices from inside: Pots and Mr. Tier.

"She didn't see me asleep, did she?" Mr. Tier asked.

"Of course not, sir," Pots replied. "She asked to see you only a few minutes ago, but I told her to wait until you were awake."

Mr. Tier grunted. "Good."

Why couldn't I see him asleep? I mean, sure, it would be weird to _watch_ someone sleep, but just to _see_ him sleeping? _Glamour doesn't work while you're asleep,_ I remembered. So what was he hiding under his mask?

Puzzled, and realizing that I shouldn't be eavesdropping, I rapped my knuckles against the door and pushed it open. Mr. Tier's bedroom was considerably larger than my own, and—to my surprise—it was clean. A large window on one side of the room was curtained off, making the only light source the ceiling fixture, which bathed the entire room in warm yellow light. Mr. Tier himself was propped up to the headboard on a canopy bed opposite the door, a tray of food rested on his lap. Not a single scratch showed on his skin. Hidden under his glamour, I supposed.

"And here she is now!" Pots said warmly. "Do you want me to leave, sir?" she asked Mr. Tier. He nodded, and the serv-droid rolled past me out the door.

I remained in the doorway, studying Mr. Tier, trying to figure out how to begin asking all the questions I had for him. He didn't seem sure of where to look. His gaze darted from his hands to his feet to the curtains to me and over again.

Finally, I said, "Why did you come after me?"

His eyes shot to mine frighteningly quickly. "Why are you still in the doorway?"

I crossed the room to sit on the cushioned chair beside his bed, my face warming. Looking down at my fingers, I asked, "Why did you save my life?"

A pause. Was hesitation a good thing or a bad thing?

"I…" he began. I waited. "Well, it would've been indecent for me just to stand there and watch you die, wouldn't it?"

"Yes. It would've been." Of course, his answer wasn't satisfactory at all, but I could tell he wasn't going to elaborate. I shifted back to my original question. "Why did you follow me?"

"I wanted to make sure you were safe."

Just like Pots had said.

"You yelled at me to leave."

"I didn't mean leave the house." His voice fell hushed on the last three words.

I frowned at my hands fidgeting in my lap. He wouldn't like my next question, but I was going to ask it anyway. "What was that mirror thing? What was the countdown?"

Silence again. I was about to give up hope of an answer when he spoke.

"Two and a half months ago, Selene was crowned queen of Luna. She had all the thaumaturges arrested and tried. Most now face lifetimes in jail."

"I know all of that. It was a great relief to every Earthen." Then it occurred to me. "So…why are you still free?"

Mr. Tier ignored my question and kept speaking, keeping his gaze trained on the tray on his lap. "When my trial came, I pleaded with the queen. I promised her I hadn't done any of Queen Levana's bidding except under severe influence and that I would never use my glamour to harm someone ever again." He sighed. "She gave me three months to prove my innocence. If I could produce a single witness free of manipulation who could vouch for my character, she would pardon me."

"But what's the mirror for?"

"It's my countdown. I have fourteen days remaining to find a witness who will prove to the court that I'm innocent. The mirror… Well, mirrors don't reflect glamour, do they?"

I shook my head. Neither did cameras. That was why Queen Levana had always worn that haunting veil. No Lunar wanted to see their true appearance, and they _certainly_ didn't want anyone else having a look. The mirror was a reminder.

"Have you found anyone?" I asked weakly.

Mr. Tier's stone-grey eyes flickered to mine, then back to his tray. "No."

A hush fell over both of us, neither one sure what to say. When the quiet had stretched too long for comfort, I got to my feet and said, "I'll let you rest."

Mr. Tier didn't protest, so I left him alone with his food, which he still hadn't touched. I closed the door gently behind me and hurried away, trying to outrun the uneasy whisper of guilt.


	14. Chapter 14

**Hi, guys! Sorry I haven't updated in a few weeks. I've been out of town, and I'll be gone again in a couple weeks. I should have time to update once or twice before I leave, then I can (hopefully) get back into a regular pattern at the end of the summer. I really appreciate all the positive feedback in your comments; reading them really makes my day. I'm so glad you're enjoying the story so far, and I hope you keep enjoying it all the way to the end!  
**

* * *

That afternoon, I unpacked my bag. I had just finished hanging my own clothes next to the elegant ballgowns in the wardrobe when a box on the top shelf captured my attention. A moment of deliberation later, I tugged it off the shelf. Pots had said I could use anything in the wardrobe, after all. The box was heavier than I expected, however, and it almost slipped from my grasp before I could dig my fingers into the smooth carvings that riddled the dark wood. A bronze latch held the dusty lid closed. I heaved the box to the ground, unlatched the lid, and opened it.

A jumbled rainbow of fabric and a flurry of perfumed air greeted me. I pulled the colors out one by one: a scarf, a veil, a baggy silk shirt, a gaudy feather headdress. The sort of clothes a child would wear to play make-believe. Underneath the clothing were piles of beads, antique pearls, fake earrings, necklaces, and bracelets. A child's dream. Who did it all belong to? Surely not Mr. Tier.

I chuckled to myself, imagining the thaumaturge decked out in all this showy array. No, he didn't exactly seem the type.

I ran my fingers through the discarded riches and struck something hard. I gripped whatever it was and tugged it out from under the jewelry mess. When I saw what I held, my breath stole away.

A music box. A real, antique music box with a ballerina posed, frozen in time, atop the dainty stage. I hadn't known any of these still existed outside of museums. Nowadays everyone played infinite tunes straight from their portscreens. The thing must have been ancient. Still, I couldn't help but wonder if it still worked. I scanned the object, looking for a button to turn it on. Instead, I found a key. Stars above, this thing was even older than I thought.

Praying I wouldn't break this priceless antique, I wound the key until it would turn no more. Then, breath held in anticipation, I released it and listened.

A second passed, and another. Then the ballerina slowly began to turn on her platform as the sweetest music I had ever heard drifted to my ears. I could almost _see_ the notes twinkling through the air. Music fit for a princess or even a queen. I felt a sudden urge to dress in the finest clothes and jewelry and dance and dance and dance all day and all night until all my troubles soared away into the Lunar sky.

And so I did. I closed my eyes and twirled like the ballerina on the music box until the soles of my feet chafed from the carpet and the music wound down to silence.

A deep cough from the doorway made me yelp. Mr. Tier was leaning against the door frame, looking as though he felt just as awkward as I did in that moment.

I smoothed my skirt and avoided his eyes as my cheeks grew uncomfortably warm. "You should be resting," I mumbled.

"I feel fine." His strained voice defied his statement. Even so, I decided not to push my point any further.

"What do you want?" I asked, trying to hide the irritation I felt.

"I saw you dancing." He coughed again. "I wondered… I mean, if you don't want to, that's… That's fine." Another cough. I began to wonder if something was stuck in his throat. "I just…" He took a deep breath and said, slowly and deliberately, "Do you want to have a dance tonight?"

I jerked my head up, startled. "A dance? You mean like a ball? With you?"

He shuffled his feet on the carpet, and I could imagine his face—whatever it _actually_ looked like—reddening underneath the glamour. "Well, perhaps not _quite_ like a ball, since it would only be the two of us, but I suppose it might be similar?"

I squinted at him, weighing my answer. This time, I didn't regret saying, "Sure. Alright, let's do it."

The look that came over Mr. Tier's face at my reply was enigmatic. A twitch of the lips, a tightening of the jaw, a slight crinkle around the eyes. Almost like he was smiling.

"I look forward to it," he said. His usually stone-cold tone of voice held a hint of warmth, making his words just as confusing as his expression. "Meet me in the ballroom after dinner. Pots will be up later to help you with anything you need." He began walking away, but on his second step, his legs gave way and he collapsed on the ground with a groan.

"Mr. Tier!" I ran forward to help him up. As I hefted him to his feet, I grunted, "Perhaps the dance should wait until you've healed."

He nodded wordlessly.


	15. Chapter 15

Over the next week and a half, I spent my time either in helping the androids with the housekeeping or in nursing Mr. Tier's wounds alongside Pots. After I reminded him that I'd already seen his injuries the night he sustained them, Mr. Tier reluctantly dissolved the areas of his glamour that allowed me to see them. The ragged tears in his skin were hard to stomach, but Pots assured me he would make a full recovery, and soon enough, Mr. Tier was soon out of bed and hobbling around the house.

The moment I no longer had Mr. Tier's wellbeing to keep me constantly occupied, the worries I'd unknowingly tossed to the back of my mind swarmed to the forefront. Almost all concerned the dance, and any that didn't still involved Mr. Tier. It struck me as strange how much I cared about my arrangement to dance with him, and not just because he was my captor. There was something else hiding beneath both his glamour and his stony mannerisms, and I was both curious and terrified to see what it was.

Finally, Mr. Tier was well enough to dance. Pots made the arrangements, and on my thirteenth full day at Mr. Tier's mansion, I prepared myself for my first ever ball. A small voice in my head whispered that the countdown on the mirror would now display a cold red number three. Three days until Mr. Tier was locked away for the rest of his life. The realization stung, so I shoved it roughly away.

Mr. Tier and I had eaten dinner together every night since I'd run away, but that evening, I ate in my room, stubbornly shoving food against the butterflies in my stomach while Pots made me presentable. She arranged my hair in a loosely braided bun and spent longer tweaking my makeup than I had in my entire life combined. After some debate, we settled on a dress: a midnight blue ballgown embroidered with tiny silver stars and wreathed in a swirl of gauzy fabric in an even deeper blue tone. Thankfully, this dress wasn't quite as low cut as the last Lunar style I'd worn, and the delicate straps kept it at a suitable height. It fit remarkably well, almost as if it had been made with me specifically in mind. Looking in the mirror, I felt like I wore the night sky itself.

For jewelry, I dug into the dress-up box and picked out a long silver chain and a set of matching earrings. When we had finished all the preparation, I gave a whirl for Pots and asked what she thought.

She gazed at me with her luminescent eyes and let out a sad sigh.

I frowned. "Is something wrong? Should we redo the makeup?"

"No, no!" She rolled forwards and backwards. "You look wonderful, miss. Simply gorgeous. You just reminded me of someone, that's all."

"Who?"

Pots shook her head. "That's not my place to say, I'm afraid. Now, you go on down to the ballroom and have some fun, alright?" She lowered her voice to a mutter. "I hope Chip and Lumi have done a good job of getting the master ready. They have no fashion sense."

I laughed. "Perhaps you should go double-check."

"I think I will, miss. You go ahead to the ballroom and we'll meet you there. If you'll excuse me, miss." She wheeled past me, and suddenly I was alone.

I stole one last glance at the mirror to make sure everything was in place. I wished desperately that I could have had my port with me at that moment to take a photo to show Vi. She'd never believe in a million years that I had put actual _effort_ into my appearance. A pang in my chest reminded me that I'd never have a chance to tell her about this evening, whatever happened, so I tore my gaze from the mirror and went downstairs.

The ballroom seemed almost magical in the light of the crystal chandelier. Glistening marble, glittering gold, this was the ballroom at its best. This was what it was meant for. The curtain at the end of the room had been pulled back to reveal a view I'd never dreamed I would get to see. I crossed to the window and stared across the lights of Artemisia, a sea of stars that stretched to the far horizon, the crystal walls of the palace rising from its depths.

"Miss Bell?" Mr. Tier said from behind me.

I whirled. A tiny part of me relished the swish of my skirts. The rest trembled in uncertain anticipation.

He stood at the door across the room from me, dressed in a dark suit and with his hair combed neatly. A Heaven's Pearl rose rested its milky petals over his heart.

I strove to remain calm. After all, there was nothing to be afraid of. Right? This was only a dance. _A dance with a thaumaturge._ No, I corrected myself. It was Mr. Tier. I had no reason to be afraid of him: he'd saved my life. I owed him my trust, and I wanted to give it to him.

He strode towards me with a strangely confident air, and I likewise moved forward to meet him in the middle of the room. He stopped a few feet from me, his features slack as he scanned my face and my dress. His jaw tightened. He looked disappointed.

"What's wrong?" I wondered if I had missed something, like a piece of food on my nose. I brushed at my nose to make sure nothing was there.

"Nothing. You—you look beautiful."

I tried to stifle the heat rising to my cheeks. "Then why do you look sad?"

"You reminded me of someone. It's alright, don't worry about it." One corner of his mouth twitched in a melancholy smile.

"Pots said the same thing, but she wouldn't tell me who."

Mr. Tier shook his head.

"Mr. Tier, please." He winced when I said his name. "If you don't tell me, I'll just continue to suspect I look terrible."

"Please call me Adam," he said. "'Mr. Tier' is so formal. It doesn't sound right anymore."

"Adam," I tried. The word was soft and comforting; I almost couldn't wait to say it again. "And I suppose you should drop the 'miss' when addressing me."

The corner of his lips lifted. "Shall we dance, Bell?"

He was avoiding my question, but something happy fluttered in my gut when he said my name, so I nodded. With a wave of his hand, music flooded the room from some hidden outlet. Adam bowed low and offered his hand. I curtsied and took it. He settled his other hand on my waist, and a thought struck me.

"I don't know how to dance."

Adam laughed. The warmth of the sound stole my breath away. It was the first time I'd heard him truly laugh. It reminded me of a mild summer afternoon or a cozy fireside, the sort of laugh one could lose themselves in.

"You seemed to do alright the other day," he said, still smiling.

"Yes, but that wasn't exactly ballroom dancing," I objected. "That was me making things up as I went."

"Well then, you may follow my lead." He pulled me close and guided me into a fairytale.

The world around us dissolved—the golden light, the chandelier, the marble floor all vanished. I became a princess in my prince's arms, albeit one who tripped over her own skirt and her partner's feet. But that didn't matter. My heart soared with the music as we swept through the ballroom. We wove our path to violins and flutes, the ethereal music making me feel as though I would drift off into the sky if Adam weren't there to anchor me. A thought brushed my consciousness to suggest that all of this was merely glamour, but I dismissed it. No pessimistic suspicion was going to spoil this dance. My gaze drifted to Adam's eyes, and my breath caught in my chest as I saw that they were no longer stark grey but instead a deep brown, the rich color of hickory wood. Nothing else about his appearance had changed.

"Your eyes…" I began, but I couldn't find the rest of the words.

Adam blinked, and when he looked back at me, the steel irises had returned. I decided I must have imagined it.

"I'm sorry I slapped you," I said softly, flashing him an embarrassed grin as I trod on his toes once again.

"You mean back when you first arrived? Our first dinner?" When I nodded, he cleared his throat and admitted, "I may have been a bit of a jerk to you."

"A bit?"

"Yes, a bit. You were rude enough, too, I'll remind you, refusing the stew."

I'd forgotten about that. "I suppose so. Maybe forgiveness is in order all around."

Adam hummed his agreement just as the music faded to nothing. We halted in the middle of the room but didn't move apart. He studied me carefully, his hand still on my waist and his expression something I could almost have called tender. I held my breath, uncertain of what to expect or how to react.

Melancholy seeped into his face before he said, "My sister."

Of everything I could've expected him to say, this was not one of the options that had crossed my mind. "What?"

"That's who you reminded me of earlier: my little sister, Josephina. We called her Josie for short." He sounded wistful. "Your bedroom used to be hers."

"Where is she now?"

He stepped away from me and turned his face to the chandelier dangling above us. He blinked numerous times before saying, his voice almost a whisper, "She's gone. She died a year ago."

My chest constricted beneath my dress as if my body were cringing away from the fabric by instinct. I was wearing a dead girl's clothing. The box of dress-up clothes had belonged to her, a memory of childhood innocence perhaps not yet lost by the time—no, the thought was too horrible.

"Oh, Adam… I'm so sorry." It was just as the books always said. The words were insufficient, yet there was nothing else that could be said. Nothing I could do would help. I hadn't even known the girl. It was wrong of me, but I couldn't help wondering what had happened to her.

Adam sniffed and looked back down at me. The slightest hint of red dusted his eyelids. "You want to know what happened, don't you?"

I opened my mouth to contradict, but his lips quirked and he said, "Don't deny it. You always have more questions." He took a deep breath. "This time I'll humor you. Come, let's sit."


	16. Chapter 16

Adam slid his hand into mine and led me to the window. We sat side-by-side on the silky smooth floor and looked out over the city. My skirt pooled over and around my crossed legs, and I hunched over like a child with my elbows on my knees to listen as Adam began his tale.

"Josie and I had a happy childhood," he began. He smiled wistfully, and his eyes took on a faraway look. "Our parents were rich and loving, and I adored my little sister. Josie and I always got along. I can hardly think of a single time we ever fought. When I was eleven and she was eight, our parents died and we were left alone in this house with only the serv-droids to take care of us. We missed our parents terribly, of course, but without them, Josie became my whole world. I would do anything for her. If she wanted something, I'd have gone a million miles to get it for her. We had enough to live on, and we were happy like that for years."

His gaze became suddenly lucid; it locked on the palace far across the lake. "But eventually money began to run out. I started applying for jobs, but no one would hire someone as young as I was. Until the queen—Queen Levana—appeared in person on my doorstep. She'd heard that I had immense talent with glamour for someone so young. She took me on as a thaumaturge-in-training. Josie was so proud of me, and even I couldn't believe it. _Me_. Working for the _queen_." He laughed, not the warm rumble from earlier but a harsh, scoffing bark.

"I worked hard, striving every day to prove that the queen hadn't made a mistake in choosing me. Within two years, I had risen to the status of second-tier thaumaturge. I wore my red robe with pride, and I harbored no hesitation in my mind of denying the queen anything she told me to do. She sent me on political trips to Earth as a diplomat, she trusted me with some of her most risky and delicate tasks. I did them all without turning a single thought to the motives behind her orders. Until the day she ordered me to kill someone."

I bristled at the words, and even Adam seemed to hesitate before continuing.

"An Earthen official—not particularly powerful, but for whatever reason, Levana wanted him dead. All the self-confidence, all the assurance I'd nurtured since becoming a thaumaturge cracked. I couldn't do it, and I had to tell Levana that as carefully as possible. She told me it was alright not to do it—if I wanted my sister dead."

My eyes widened, and I leaned closer.

"With Josie's life at stake, I couldn't refuse. I arranged the assassination of the official and saw it through, thinking everything would go back to normal when the task was done. It didn't. Levana made me assassinate person after person, from Lunar dignitaries to Earthen political figures to soldiers in her own army. I never let Josie know what I was doing. I couldn't face her disappointment on top of my own. But somehow, she found out. I don't know who or what clued her in, but she confronted me about it one evening when I got home. She threatened to run away if I didn't stop. She said she'd run away to Earth and never come back." He looked down at his lap and smiled shakily. "She was a spirited girl.

"I tried to tell her that the queen would kill her if I didn't obey orders, but Josie wouldn't listen. She insisted that I stand up to the queen. She had this idea that the queen was all bark and no bite, that the queen would never actually kill her. I was desperate enough to believe her over my own common sense, so the next day I went to the queen and straight up refused to kill anyone else. Levana stared me right in the eye, summoned another thaumaturge, and ordered him to kill my sister."

Adam swiped at the tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. "That was all it took to make me give in. I agreed to do the job; I begged her to spare Josie. I set to work straight away, and by the end of the day the whole thing had been arranged. I went home, expecting to see Josie run out to greet me, as usual. Instead I found the front door smashed in and the house empty. She was gone." His voice tripped on the last word, and he added in a whisper, "She was fifteen."

Something tickled my cheek, and I reached up to find both my cheeks soaked with tears. I knew no glamour was involved in my emotions this time. I smoothed my fingers over the soft ripples of my skirt. Josie had once worn this very dress, maybe to a dance like this, maybe in this very room.

"Why would the queen do that?" I breathed. "You did what she asked of you."

Adam shook his head. "As soon as I knew Josie was gone, I ran back to the palace on foot and demanded to know that very thing. All she said was that Josie 'had a bad influence on me and would be better off out of the way.'" He spoke through clenched teeth. "The self-control it took not to kill her right then and there… I suspect she had to use her own glamour to stop me." He scoffed and muttered, "I'm sure she was used to death threats."

I felt the urge to comfort him, but before I could think how to, something smacked the window, and I yelped and scuttled back. Adam hurried to his feet and peered into the dark night. I looked with him and saw that a hover had pulled up outside the front gate of the house and two men and a woman stood by it, jeering and lobbing rocks and glass bottles at the house. Most landed harmlessly in the grass, but now and then, one of the projectiles found its mark and hit the window we stood behind.

Adam glowered at the trio.

"Why are they doing that?" I asked, squinting through the dark to see the attackers better. A bottle smashed against the glass right in front of my nose, and I jumped back again.

Adam scoffed, and his voice dripped sarcasm. "It may not make sense to you, but people around here don't like me very much. This isn't a rare occurrence."

"Well, they aren't doing any harm, are they?"

As the words left my mouth, more people joined the group beyond the gate and multiplied the number of objects being thrown at the house. They began to yell and scream at us, and something in their manner made me glad I couldn't make out their words. The mob grabbed at the gate, jostling and pushing against the rust.

Another rock found the window, and a crack began to spread across the windowpane.

"Master!" Chip zoomed into the room, skidding across the floor as he cried, "There are people outside—they're trying to get in, and they the gates aren't locked!"

The attackers became a mob of around twenty people.

Lumi and Pots appeared in the doorway as well, and all three simultaneously delivered thorough reports of our situation and possible danger. I gathered from their frenzied words that although this often happened, there had never been more than a half dozen people, and they had never before tried to enter the grounds.

"Maybe they don't _actually_ want to get past the gates? Maybe they're just trying to make a point?" I asked hopefully.

The moment I said it, the gates screeched open and the mob poured through.

Adam's countenance turned grim. Still looking out the window, he said, "I can deal with this, Bell, but I need you to go with the droids into the basement, just in case. You'll be safe there."

"Why do I need to go there? I can help you." I stood up taller, ignoring the droids tugging at my skirt and doing my best to look capable despite my ballgown.

Eyes blazing, Adam grabbed my bare shoulders firmly. "No, Bell. Go to the basement. These people are drunk—they'll be easy to glamour, but who knows what they'll do to you if they find you." Sensing my lingering hesitation, he shook me gently and repeated, "Basement. Now. Don't make me manipulate you. Please."

I took one last glance at the mob approaching the house, then back at Adam. Then I gave in to the droids' urgings and followed them through the house to a door at the back of the kitchen. Chip pulled me down a dark flight of stairs, Lumi navigated me around a number of shadowy tables, and Pots tucked me under a desk in the farthest corner of the room from the stairwell. The serv-droids' eyes blinked out, and we were plunged into blackness.

How many minutes or hours we waited in the dark, the only sounds my breathing and the faint hum of the android's machinery, I don't know. Excepting the idea of spiders and any other crawly things that might inhabit my hidey-hole, I wasn't afraid. I knew Adam could take on the rabble with no questions asked.

So when heavy footfalls thumped in the kitchen above us, I knew it must be him come to tell us it was safe to come out now. But then another set of footsteps sounded. Two people clattered around the kitchen, making so much noise I could only assume they were digging through the cupboards. That didn't bother me, as long as they didn't come downstairs…

The door at the top of the stairs swung open, and light fell in a thick wedge into the basement. My heartbeat quickened, and I stuffed myself as far into the corner as I could, inwardly telling myself never to assume things won't happen ever again.

Two silhouettes stomped into view—one tall and burly, the other shorter and leaner. They didn't seem to think of turning on the lights, thank the stars. Making their way steadily through the room towards me and the droids, they rifled through the junk on the tables, picking up anything that interested them along the way.

"Don't take anything we can't carry," the burly one reminded his partner in a raspy whisper.

"What about this old android?" the short one asked, bending over and looking under the table right at Lumi. Without his eyes illuminated, the serv-droid looked dead and empty. A chill ran up my spine, and I shuddered. The movement shook the desk against the floor.

The men's heads jerked in my direction. They exchanged a look, then both began creeping towards my hiding place.

"Hello?" the short one called in a nasally voice. "Is someone there?"

The tall one sniggered. "Promise we won't hurt ya. Come on out."

I shrank back and squeezed my eyes shut, as if that would make me invisible. I heard their footsteps tap closer and closer. They could only have been a yard or two away when a sudden whir of wheels was followed by yells from both men. My eyes shot open to see Chip, Pots, and Lumi pummeling the legs of the invaders like mechanical hurricanes.

"Run, miss!" cried Chip, thumping over the men's toes with his heavy treads.

I scurried out from under the desk, hoisted my skirt in my arms, and dashed up the stairs—right into the arms of the another thief. He caught me up and pulled me tight against his jacket. The leathery material rubbed against my face, and the stench of smoke and body odor stormed its way into my nostrils, gagging me. I writhed and struggled, but his arms only constricted further around me.

"I got a girl!" he called down the stairs, astonishment in his cry.

A number of loud crunches came from the basement before the other two thieves appeared, supporting armfuls of trinkets.

"To the hover; it's time to go," ordered the burly man. "The distraction out front won't last much longer."

"What about the girl?"

"Take her. She might be worth something."

I screamed and stomped on the first foot I saw, but my captor spun me around, clapped a calloused hand over my mouth, and lifted me kicking off the ground. He hauled me out a back door and down to a beaten-up hover waiting on an alley at the back of the property. He shoved me roughly into the trunk of the hover. The other two dumped their spoils on top of me and slammed the door before I could escape. The engine revved only a second later.

I threw off the stolen trinkets and attacked my prison door violently, but it didn't give an inch. The hover lurched forwards, catapulting my head against the door. I fell to the floor and clutched my forehead. A bird in a cage, that's what I was. A helpless creature with no chance of escape. I curled in a ball and tried not to think about what they'd do to me when we arrived at our destination, wherever that happened to be. I'd never see Dad again. I'd never see Violet or Henry. Of course, that wasn't new, but it hurt to think of. And, strange to say, my heart ached at the thought of never seeing Adam again. I screwed my eyes shut against the threat of tears.

A sharp bang erupted outside my prison. The hover glided to a rickety stop. Doors opened and a scuffle ensued outside. I lay very still, listening intently. Something slammed against the side of the hover.

"Where is she?" a voice growled. "What have you done with her?"

"Don't tell him!" I recognized the voice of the tall, brawny man.

A click like that of a gun followed his statement.

"Tell me right now or he gets it."

I drew a sharp breath. I knew that voice.

"Adam!" I called. "I'm in here! I'm in the trunk!"

"Get her out," Adam commanded, and not a moment later, the keys turned and the door swung open.

I tumbled out of the trunk and into Adam's open arms. He held me tight against his chest with one arm, with the other pointing a pistol at the men. We stood hardly a quarter mile down the alley from the back door I'd been carried out of.

"Leave," Adam told the men. "Take the rest of your plunder, I don't care, but know that if I ever see you again, this pistol will not be full for long."

The thieves nodded frantically and piled back into the hover. I saw the brawny man scowling at me in the mirror as they drove away.

Adam didn't lower the gun until they were out of sight. "Are you alright?" he asked, looking down at me. He frowned. "Your forehead is red." He gently brushed the spot where I'd hit my head, and I grimaced at the spark of pain.

"I'm fine." I took a shuddering breath. "Let's go inside."

"Of course."

My entire body shook in time with my heart as we tramped up the alleyway back to the mansion, and it was only by sheer willpower that I managed not to fall. The skirt of my gown dragged against the pavement, but I didn't care. That was the least worrisome thing about my evening. I stumbled through the back door and leaned against the wall just inside, struggling to steady my breathing. Adam leaned wordlessly against the wall next to me.

"You saved me again," I panted. "Thank you." My throat tightened, and tears blurred my vision once more. I turned my face away from him. I heard him take a breath to say something, but just then a shrill cry tore across the house.

"Master! Master, come quickly!"

"Lumi," Adam said, his body tensing, and strode from the room after the voice. I followed him back to the basement.

Pots and Lumi looked up when we arrived. On the ground between them lay Chip. I gasped. His body had been dented in numerous spots, and one of his wheels had rolled a short distance away. He sparked and fizzled from every joint. And his head… The flickering eyes were cracked, and the rest of the plastic sphere was twisted out of shape, a mangled wreck of wires. Next to him on the ground rested a heavy wrench.

Adam knelt next to the little droid and analyzed the damage. "What happened?"

"Those scoundrels, Master," spat Pots. "We were giving Miss Bell time to escape, and they grabbed that wrench and attacked poor Chip."

"Is there anything we can do?"

Lumi shook his head. "I made a quick examination of his vital systems. It would take an excellent mechanic to repair him."

"But we don't know an excellent mechanic."

Pots and Lumi exchanged a glance and shook their heads sorrowfully. Adam bowed his head.

"What about the queen?" My own voice startled me in the solemn quiet.

Adam frowned up at me. "Queen Selene?"

I nodded. "She's rumored to be one of the best mechanics Earth ever had. Why couldn't she fix Chip?"

"Because I'm a thaumaturge whom she's going to sentence to lifelong imprisonment in a few days."

"What if someone were to vouch for you?" The words were out before I could stop them.

Adam let out a disbelieving, hopeful laugh. For a split second, his eyes flashed brown like they had during our dance. "You'd do that to save a serv-droid? _My_ serv-droid?"

"No. I'd do it to save Chip _and_ you." Somehow I knew the feeling of determination wasn't a glamour. I had the opportunity to repay Adam for his kindness and for saving my life, and I was going to take it. "What's more, I'll do it right now." I stepped forward to gather Chip into my arms, but instead, my legs gave way and I found myself on the floor.

Pots and Lumi cried out in alarm.

I tried to stand, but my legs shook beneath my skirt, and I couldn't breathe. The room whirled around me. Black tinged my vision. I was barely aware of the strong, comforting arms which scooped me up, or of Adam whispering in my ear, "Tomorrow, Bell. You've had a long night."

He carried me up to my room and laid me on the bed. "Rest," he told me.

I curled up beneath the warm, soft blankets. Scarcely had he turned the lights out and closed the door behind him than I gave in to the darkness clouding my senses and fell into a dreamless sleep.


	17. Chapter 17

When I awoke, lunch waited for me on a tray beside the bed. Frowning, I sat up and looked around the room. Something sat just outside my memory, faded like a dream. I probed what I could remember of the night before and fell back onto my pillow as the facts hit me full force. The dance, the rocks against the window, Adam's story, the robbers, and the most urgent memory of all: I was going to the palace today to have Chip repaired…and to free Adam from his sentence.

The crumpled dress swishing around my feet, I slipped out of bed and went to the wardrobe to find a more comfortable set of clothing. I decided on my own plain dress and boots. An outfit that in no way reflected the extravagant Lunar fashion. My appearance in court needed to be decidedly Earthen, a term that in my mind was forever and always synonymous with 'innocent.'

I scarfed down the glazed meat and the vegetables topped with sprigs of exotic herbs, then hurried downstairs to find Adam.

He paced the foyer in his socks and a knitted sweater, an informality that faltered my steps. Every time he came to the end of his path and swung around, he slid across the waxy tiles. In fact, he seemed to deliberately exaggerate the slide. His shoes had been discarded against the wall. I couldn't decide what to comment on first.

"Are you sock-sliding?" I incredulously decided to ask.

Skidding to a stop, he looked bashfully up at me. "It helps when I'm nervous."

"And you're nervous why, exactly?"

"It doesn't matter." He went back to his sock-sliding, looking a lot more self-conscious now.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, I stopped him with a gentle hand on his forearm. "You don't have to be nervous," I said, just as much to myself as to Adam. "I'll be back before you know it."

"Thank you, Bell," he mumbled to the floor. "You didn't have to do this."

"Yes, I did. It's my way of thanking you for everything you've done for me."

He scoffed. "What—kidnapping your father, and imprisoning and manipulating you?"

"No. Protecting me, caring for my needs, and—I'll say it again—saving my life _more_ than once. Thank you for putting me in my place." My lips quirked to one side. "And for showing me that adventures in real life aren't as wonderful as they seem in the books and net dramas."

He chuckled.

I paused, then added, "Where did your robe go?"

Adam shrugged. "I figured we were past the need for intimidation—"

"You wore it for two whole weeks just to _intimidate_ me? Good strategy. It worked."

"—and it seemed inappropriate to wear the robe of a guilty man while you try to convince the court that I am innocent—"

"There's no 'try' about it; I _will_ convince them that you're innocent."

He waited, and when he seemed satisfied that I wouldn't interrupt again, he finished, "And it's comfortable."

I sighed and conceded, "That's the best reason to wear something."

The corners of his eyes crinkled, then he seemed to remember something. He reached to the back pocket of his trousers and pulled out a portscreen. _My_ portscreen. "You should take this with you. I installed a map of Artemisia so you can find your way to the palace."

I gasped and snatched the port from him and began to scroll through it, grinning. Stars above, I'd missed that thing. Two weeks of nothing to read had left me in desperation for any written word, and I drank up the words flitting by on the screen the way a parched man in the desert might catch raindrops on his tongue.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" I cried, hugging the port—my precious library—to my chest. I flashed the widest of smiles at Adam, and before I had time to think, I had thrown my arms around his neck and was hugging him with all my might. A breathless moment passed before he hugged back, but when he did, he lifted me from the ground and whirled me around until a laugh escaped my lips. I grasped the back of his sweater, determined never to let go.

Pots and Lumi entered the room, dragging a lumpy bag behind them, and Adam lowered me lightly to the ground. The droids handed the bag up to me with deep solemnity: mechanical soldiers saying farewell—albeit a temporary one—to a fallen comrade. I strove to mirror their grave mood to avoid offending them, but the lightness that had taken hold of my heart put up an impressive fight.

I positioned the bag over my shoulder and heaved a sigh. I fought the grin, but my mouth twitched nonetheless. "Guess I should get going."

The androids gazed at me dolefully, and Adam's brows furrowed with worry.

"Don't look at me like that!" I laughed. "I'll get a brand-new Chip and a letter of pardon from the queen and be back before dinner."


	18. Chapter 18

I hiked the streets of Artemisia with a skip in my step, following what my port claimed was the quickest way to the palace. As I walked, the bag full of Chip bounced against my back and my mind wandered. It hesitated on the question of what would happen after this audience with the queen. Where would I go? I'd told Adam that I'd come back, and I fully intended to, but what about after that? Would I stay in the mansion; did he really mean to keep me locked up there forever? The very fact that he'd let me walk across the city to the palace alone made it clear that he'd give me at least _some_ measure of freedom. So couldn't we go back to Earth together? We didn't need to stay on Luna. We could join Cress, Thorne, Wolf, and Scarlet on the Rampion, just as I had planned to do before… Before everything changed. I could never go back to the way things were before, but perhaps I could move on. With Adam. Yes, that's what we'd do. I made a mental note to pitch the idea to him when I saw him later that day.

I passed a glitzy corner café and turned left, and there loomed the palace. The gates were only a few feet away, and while the only visible security consisted of two young men, there was no doubt in my mind that the gates were safely under the thorough gaze of dozens of cameras. Fortunately, I was not planning to break in illegally, so I approached the guards with confidence.

"I'm here to speak to the queen," I announced to them, dropping my burden to the pavement with a clunk.

The sentries examined me and the bag dubiously.

"Do you have an appointment?" one of them asked.

"Uh… I don't think so." At their dismissive expressions, I added quickly, "I'm here on behalf of Thaumaturge Tier."

"What's in the bag?"

"I was hoping the queen could also fix my droid." I opened the mouth of the bag and allowed them a peek at Chip's bashed-in head.

"You'll have to arrange a time to see the queen, ma'am," the second guard said. "I believe the next opening is three weeks from today."

My jaw dropped open. " _Three weeks_! I don't have that long. I need to speak with Queen Selene _today._ "

To my dismay, they shook their heads. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but the queen is busy."

They ushered me away, but I wouldn't go. "Please let me in. I'm sure she can make time to see me—she _has_ to. If I don't speak to her, my friend will be unjustly imprisoned or even _killed_."

They exchanged a tired glance, as if they'd heard tales like mine a million times, but before they could say anything, a familiar voice drifted from the other side of the gate.

"Bell-a-roo?" Captain Carswell Thorne sauntered up to the gate, a look of astonishment on his handsome features. "What are you doing here? I thought you went back to Earth with your father weeks ago." He looked expectantly at each of the guards in turn. When they didn't move, he said, "Come on, let her in!"

The guards rolled their eyes, and one muttered into a comm unit to the side of the gate. He was answered by a fuzzy voice, then the gate cracked open just enough for me to slide through with my bag, then it sealed again behind me.

Thorne slid an arm around my shoulders and led me into the pristine depths of the palace. "So how did you wind up here, Bell-a-roo?"

I shrugged him off. "I need to talk to the queen," I repeated for the umpteenth time.

"Aces, you're touchy today. Just trying to be friendly." He threw me a crooked grin. "Cinder's got some boring queeny stuff going on today, but I'll put in a good word, and—because I have immense influence around here, of course—you'll be able to see her by the end of the day."

I rolled my eyes. "Thanks."

We turned up a glassy hallway and saw Scarlet walking briskly in our direction, peeking through the open doors on either side of her as she went. "Hey, Thorne, have you seen Cress? My port keeps acting up and—Bell?" She halted, puzzled. "How did you get here? What's in that bag?"

"It's a long story. Is Queen Selene busy right now?"

"Actually, she just got out of a meeting. Should I get her for you? I would comm her, but…" She glared at the glitching port in her hand.

"That would be wonderful."

Scarlet nodded and walked back the way she had come, her coppery curls hopping around her shoulders.

Thorne crossed his arms and said, "So. What's this long story you have to tell?"

I shot him a dirty look. "Like I said, it's a long story. I don't really have time."

He shrugged. "Suit yourself." He reached into his jacket, pulled out a bar of what seemed to be chocolate laced with glitter, and started munching on it.

"Hey, you never know when you could get hungry," he defended himself when he saw my disbelieving expression. "The kitchen staff here likes me; they let me take whatever I want. I have another bar in here somewhere. You want it?"

I closed my eyes, pinched the bridge of my nose, and took a deep breath.

A clicking of heels against the spotless floor announced the arrival of the queen, followed by Scarlet, Cress, and Wolf. Queen Selene was shorter than I had expected. She wore a simple pastel green gown that accentuated her tanned skin, and her mousy hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail. Her left hand was metal from the wrist down, a sight that gave me chills. But the most intimidating piece of her appearance was the jeweled crown perched on the top of her head. As I processed its significance, my nerves caught up with me.

"Your Majesty." I curtsied shakily.

"Cinder, this is Bell O'Hara," Scarlet introduced, "the girl who wanted to speak to you."

The queen smiled wearily. "It's nice to meet you, Miss O'Hara," she said, but her tone betrayed that it was more a duty than a pleasure. "What did you want to talk to me about?"

"It's about Thaumaturge Tier, Your Majesty."

The queen stiffened. "Ah. Okay, go on."

"I should probably start from the beginning." I took a deep breath and began in a rush, "My father came here on a business trip a few weeks ago, and Mr. Tier locked him up for taking a rose from his garden. I took my father's place and have been living there for the past two weeks. But—"

"He locked you up!" Cress squeaked, her eyes as wide as a droid's.

"Yes, but that's not the point—"

"He can't do that," Scarlet interjected. "I know he's a thaumaturge, but that's taking things too far."

"He's not–"

"You have a horrible bruise on your forehead," Thorne said, apparently noticing for the first time. I myself had forgotten about it since last night. "Did he do that to you?"

"No–"

"Did he use his glamour on you?" Wolf rumbled from Scarlet's side.

"Well, yes, but–"

"That is unacceptable, and I won't stand for it!" Thorne declared. "Cinder, you should have him arrested right away for harassing my friend."

I couldn't watch the situation spiral into disaster anymore. I turned to the queen. "Your Majesty, please, listen to me. Adam is innocent, and I'm here to beg pardon for his previous actions."

She studied me for a moment, then her tense countenance melted into something like sympathy. "I'm sorry, Miss O'Hara, but Thaumaturge Tier has committed a felony by imprisoning you and your father. One of the conditions of his pardon was that he not break any law during his three-month suspension." She sighed. "I'm afraid there's nothing I can do." An official-looking man passed us, and the queen beckonded him over. She told him in a hushed tone, probably hoping I wouldn't hear, "Send a squad over to Thaumaturge Tier's house and have him arrested, please."

" _What!_ " I cried. The official spared a disinterested glance at me and strode away to fulfill his orders. "Your Majesty, he's still got two days!"

"You turned him in, Miss O'Hara. As a result, I have no choice but to have him arrested. I'm sorry, but that's the law." And now she really did look sorry.

"Turned him in…" I breathed. Suddenly lightheaded, I let my bag crash to the floor.

"Wolf, please show Miss O'Hara to a spare room." She whispered something else unintelligible to the hulking man, who then took my arm and guided me down the hallway.

In a daze, I followed him, dragging the bag full of Chip behind me. My brain was tumbling through the events of the past couple minutes, trying to comprehend how it had all fallen apart so suddenly. In the blink of an eye, I had gone from saving Adam to condemning him, without even realizing it. I felt as though I had just pulled him from the chopping block only to push him into the path of a bullet. And to top it all, I hadn't even had a chance to ask the queen if she would repair Chip.

I was ushered into a richly furnished room, though I hardly noticed the silks and . I stared blankly at the sea beyond the glass. The click of a lock brought me to my senses. Whipping around, I saw that the door had been closed behind me. I ran to it and tried the handle, but it wouldn't turn.

"Let me out! Wolf!" No reply came. I pounded on the door, and still no one answered me. I was about to give up when I heard someone pad past the door. "Who's there?" I asked.

"It's Cress," a timid voice said.

"Thank the stars," I whispered to myself. She would help me, I knew it. "Listen, you need to let me out of here. Adam—Thaumaturge Tier is innocent. I have to stop them from arresting him."

No answer for a moment, then: "I'm sorry, I can't. Cinder said you had to be kept here."

I groaned under my breath. "But why?"

"I think she knew you would try to stop his arrest, and she couldn't let you get in the way of the police. They'd have to arrest you if you did—she's trying to protect you, Bell."

"But he's _not guilty_."

She didn't reply at first, and for a moment I thought she'd left, but then her voice came again, soft and sad, "I'm sorry. I wish I could help, but I can't. The police are already on their way to his house. You can't stop them. I'm really sorry."

"But–but—" Cress was already gone. I wrenched my fingers through my hair and growled in frustration.

Refusing to give up, I ran to the window and leaned out. The still water of the sea glittered three stories down, then there was about a twenty-yard swim from the spot below my window to the shore. Between the buildings, I saw the line of police hovers leaving the palace. The clock was ticking. I looked back over my shoulder and spotted the pile of clean sheets that made up the bed against the middle of the wall. I could tie them into a rope, like in the net dramas, but that would take too long. The day was already fading from the dome far above, and the lights of the city were beginning to flicker into existence.

Leaving Chip in his bag on the soft carpet and trying not to think about how I might return for him as a criminal under arrest, I clambered onto the windowsill. The water extended for miles beyond—and probably below—where I stood. Light swirled beneath the surface, giving the illusion that it was much farther down than I knew it was. I shuddered at the height, but the sirens wailed across the city. Time was running out. Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and jumped.


	19. Chapter 19

Icy ropes coiled around my chest and pulled tight. Air abandoned my lungs in voluminous bubbles. I kept my eyes tightly shut and flailed for the surface, my muscles taut and stiff. After what felt like far too long, my head broke free of the crushing cold, and I gasped for breath through the tendrils of hair clinging to my face. Blinking the hair from my eyes, I swam for the shore.

Several bystanders cast me a disdainful glance as I hoisted myself, dripping, onto the pavement. I hardly gave them a thought. I flew down the street in the direction of the sirens, only vaguely aware of the water sloshing in my boots or of the chill that clung to my skin. As night fell over the city, I caught a glimpse through the busy streets of flashing lights in Adam's neighborhood. The police had reached his house. I would be too late. Despair threatened to slow my steps, but I recalled how long Adam had held off the invaders the night before, and instead, hope redoubled my speed. My breath came hard and fast, rattling in my head and deafening me to any other sound but the sirens, wailing high into the darkening sky.

After what felt like hours, the mansion came into view down the street. Half a dozen law enforcement hovers waited on the road outside, and the officers had broken through the gates and were shouting and pummeling the front door. Some attacked the windows in the hope that they would give way. Not a single light glowed inside the house. I caught a glimpse of Scarlet's rust-colored locks at the back of the group. Cress, Thorne, and Wolf were probably there, too, although I didn't see them.

I stopped out of their view and doubled over, wheezing and spluttering like an old hover. When I had regained the ability to breathe, I slipped into a shadowy passage between Adam's and his neighbor's gardens and emerged in the alley behind the houses.

"Please let it be unlocked," I prayed, stepping up to the back door of the mansion. I grabbed the handle and twisted. It turned easily. With a cry of relief, I wrenched open the door and ran inside.

"Adam!" I called into the dark house. "Adam, where are you?"

"Miss Bell!" two electronic voices answered. Pots and Lumi zipped towards me out of the shadows. "You're back! Thank the stars."

"Where's Adam?" I demanded. "We have to get him out of here. They've come to arrest him."

"I know, I know, miss," moaned Pots. If she'd had proper hands to wring, that's what she would have been doing.

" _Where is he?_ "

"Upstairs, miss," Lumi told me, and before he could say any more, I had dashed from the room, leaving a trail of water in my wake.

"Adam!" I cried again as I ran into the foyer, slipping and sliding on the slick floors. The chaotic pounding on the door echoed across the walls like the beat of war drums.

"Bell?"

I whipped around and found Adam at the top of the stairs, illuminated by the flashing blue and red lights of the hovers outside. Relieved to the point of tears, I hurried up the stairs, but something in his posture stopped me before I could reach the summit. He seemed weary and resigned and so totally unlike his normal dominant self that I took an involuntary step back.

"What are you doing here?" His voice was quiet, strained.

I stammered for a response, stunned. "You have to get out," I managed, but there was no energy, no conviction to my statement. Something was wrong, and I didn't know what to expect from him next. All I knew was that I had made everything worse, and I was running out of time to fix my mistakes. "I tried, Adam. I tried to tell them you were innocent, but they wouldn't listen. They thought I was turning you in. I didn't mean for any of this to happen." My voice cracked. "But we can still get you out of here safely."

Adam heaved a long sigh. "I can't leave."

"What? Why not?"

"You shouldn't have come back."

"What are you talking about?" The pounding grew more frenzied. The door wouldn't last much longer.

Over the deep thudding, Adam announced, "The queen wants me arrested. Who am I to argue? I deserve it." He rested his hands on the balcony railing and lowered his head. "I've caused you too much pain. Go now, before they arrest you too. Find your family. Forget about me."

I stared, searching for the words to say and failing miserably. This wasn't what was meant to happen. He wasn't supposed to give up like this. My soaked dress clung to my skin, and my hair stuck like a wet snake against my neck, chilly reminders of what I'd gone through to rescue him. The drumbeats on the door settled into a throbbing rhythm, as frantic as my own heartbeat.

"You can't do this," I mumbled. I raised my voice to be heard over the din. "You can't give up. You can't make me leave, and surely you can't think I want to. You haven't caused me pain. Meeting you is one of the best things that ever happened to me." I marched up the stairs toward Adam and jabbed a finger at the trembling front door. "They want to drag you away and lock you up, but I won't let them. And I won't let you surrender, either. You're the hero, and a hero never surrenders." I crossed my arms defiantly.

He lowered his head until his chin nearly touched his chest, and his fists tightened around the railing. When he looked up, his porcelain cheeks bore the smooth scars of tears that were still trailing to his jaw. "This isn't one of your fairytales, Bell. I'm not a hero. I'm the villain. I'm the witch who gets burned, the thief who gets executed, the traitor who gets tortured. It doesn't matter that I did it to protect Josie—I killed all those people. They'll never feel the sun on their faces, kiss their loved ones, or see their children again. I took that away from them. I know how you've painted me in your beautiful, wonderful, innocent mind." A brief smile shimmered over his lips, vanishing as he repeated in a broken voice, "But I'm the _villain,_ Bell. The villain never gets the happy ending… And they don't deserve to."

The front door broke open and slammed against the wall. Officers flooded in, a soldier at their head, their flashlights slicing through the dim room. A shard of light pierced Adam, and the soldier at the front of the group shouted, "Hands in the air, sir. You're under arrest by order of Queen Selene Blackburn."

Adam slowly raised his arms above his head, staring straight ahead. Officers swarmed the stairs, bustling towards us, detained only by the two valiant serv-droids who fought against the tide to save their master. I almost wished Luna used androids for its law enforcement: robots might have been easier to repel than these strong, purposeful men and women.

I spoke quickly. "Adam, please don't give in. Not without a fight. For me, do it for me. No—do it for Josie. She would want you to stand up for yourself, wouldn't she? Save yourself for her sake, Adam. Please."

He looked at me a moment, his eyes brimming with emotion, more emotion than I'd ever seen in him before. Then he was gone. The soldiers let out cries of alarm and shoved past the droids.

"Follow him! Don't let him leave the house," the soldier commanded.

The officers pushed past me, forcing me against the railing. One ordered me to stay there, out of the way, but as soon as they had passed, I tore across the mansion to the attic. Adam sat on a dusty old sofa against the wall to the left of the mirror, his head buried in his hands. The number two, a cruel and pointless warning, glared a crimson light down on him.

"I hoped you'd be here," I said, relieved.

He ignored me. I joined him on the sofa and watched him warily out of the corner of my eye. "I'm sorry." I didn't know what else to say, so I scooted closer and leaned against his shoulder.

"It's not your fault," he mumbled. Leaning back, he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me tight against his chest.

I melted into the embrace. A tear trickled down my cheek and soaked into his sweater. "We'll get out of this," I whispered. "Somehow. You won't go to jail, I promise."

"Don't make promises you can't keep."

"Good advice. You should listen to him, girl." The somber voice resonated through the cluttered room, making me jerk away from Adam. The soldier who had led the invasion of the mansion stood at the top of the stairs. I hadn't even heard a whisper of his approach. "Thank you for leaving me a trail, my dear, even if it was a little slippery." He pulled out a gun and pointed the barrel at Adam's chest. "Let's try this again, shall we? Hands in the air, if you please, Thaumaturge Tier."

Adam rose, stately and regal. His marble face betrayed no emotion, and his cold grey eyes flickered in the sinister red light. "May I ask my captor's name?" he asked, his tone teetering on the edge of savagery.

The soldier sneered. "You may. I am General Julian Starr of Her Majesty Queen Selene Blackburn's army, and I have been granted the immense honor of arresting a thaumaturge." He puffed out his chest.

"Law enforcement seems a rather demeaning job for a general, doesn't it?" Adam mused calmly.

I chuckled softly.

Starr glowered and tightened his grip on his pistol. "Her Majesty didn't trust anyone less capable to take on a thaumaturge. Now, hands in the air, Thaumaturge Tier. Let's not make this more difficult than it needs to be."

"I wasn't planning on it." Squaring his shoulders, Adam raised his hands over his head until they almost brushed the low ceiling while I watched, a feeling of hopelessness steadily overtaking my soul.

With a chilling smile that reminded me of a cat toying with a doomed mouse, Starr marched towards Adam, his pistol still leveled at the thaumaturge's chest. He paused, his face inches from Adam's, a look of pure and utter contempt scarring his features. Then he thrust his fist into Adam's gut.

I cried out in alarm and tried to run to my friend's aid, but an invisible force glued me to the sofa. Struggling and screaming, I was forced to look on helplessly as Starr struck Adam again and again–nose, chest, jaw, anywhere he could reach. _Thud. Thud. Thud._ The beat pulsed through my brain. And Adam did nothing. He stood for as long as he could with his head bowed, patiently absorbing every blow, all the while slowly sinking to his knees. I screamed for help, but none came. The punches turned to kicks, the metal-capped toes of Starr's boots crunching against Adam's bones.

"Stop. Please, stop!" I shrieked as Adam fell to his hands and knees, his face screwed up in pain.

The general stilled. He glared at me, breathing heavily through his flaring nose. Adam groaned at his feet.

"Why?" I sobbed, still wrestling with my invisible bonds. "Why would you do this?"

"Why?" Starr thrust his nose in my face, his eyes burning with manic fury. He spoke through clenched teeth. " _Justice._ This man is a thaumaturge–a murderer. He has taken hundreds of innocent lives, and all the queen wants to do is lock him away in a cozy little prison cell. He deserves to feel pain." He returned to his work with renewed fervor.

All at once, footsteps clattered up the stairs to the attic, and Thorne appeared in the doorway, holding a handgun of his own. He took in the scene, aimed at Adam, and pulled the trigger. Something whizzed through the air and lodged in Adam's ribs. Bloodied and bruised, Adam slumped to the floor.

"No!" I gasped, leaping from the sofa. Instinctively, I grabbed a rusty pan from a nearby storage container and swung it at Starr's head. He tumbled unconscious to the ground next to Adam. For a long moment, nothing moved. The pan trembled in my hands as I tried to wrap my mind around the facts.

 _Adam. Thorne shot Adam._

The pan dropped onto Starr's chest. I rolled Adam onto his back and cradled his head in my lap. He seemed different, but in the dark I couldn't tell how. His hair was longer…and curly, I knew that much. His glamour must have disappeared when he was shot, I thought dully. But I didn't care. I felt nothing inside me but a sharp, cold disbelief and a crushing, empty ache.

"It's only a tranquilizer," Thorne told me, stepping a few feet further into the room. "He'll come to in a few hours."

I nodded, speechless, and stroked my thumb against Adam's wet cheek. Then the tears began to fall, only a sprinkle at first, but quickly turning into a torrent of sobs. I don't know how long I cried before Cress was there, resting a hand on my shoulder.

"It's alright, Bell," she consoled me in a small, shaky voice. "Come with me. Come on." Too overwhelmed to form thoughts, I allowed myself to be guided away from Adam.


	20. Chapter 20

The next hour was a blur of red-and-blue lights. I wound up on the street outside the mansion, being asked questions I couldn't focus my mind enough to answer. At some point, an anonymous pair of arms wrapped a blanket around my shivering shoulders. I joined Lumi and Pots in watching anxiously as soldiers carried Adam and Starr out of the house on stretchers. The sight of Starr's unconscious form offered me some vague sense of justice, but it faded quickly, like breath on a cold window.

Then I found myself in a silent hover with the Rampion crew. For a moment, I found my bearings, but I only gazed sullenly out the window at the passing Artemisian nightlife. How easy they all had it—how simple, compared to the political and emotional maze I had stumbled into. Barely had the thought appeared in my head than I once again lost track of time and place. When I next burst back into reality, I was standing before Queen Selene and a handful of other official-looking people in the throne room of the palace. Thorne, Cress, Wolf, and Scarlet had vanished along with the blanket that had been on my shoulders. I wrapped trembling arms around my still-damp figure.

"Miss O'Hara?" the queen prompted, resting her chin in her mechanical hand. The officials tittered. They seemed to be waiting for me to do something.

I shook my head to clear it. "Huh?"

The queen's lips quirked to one side. "Your defense of Thaumaturge Tier?"

"Oh! Uh…" Fuzzy recollections of the past five or ten minutes trudged slowly back to my memory. We had arrived at the palace, of course, and Adam and Starr had been borne speedily to the care of the med-droids. The queen had agreed to finally let me deliver an official plea on behalf of Adam, and now here I was to give it.

But my stammering hesitation dragged on, and Queen Selene sighed. "It's late," she said. "Maybe tomorrow would be a better time for this?"

"No!" I said quickly before realizing I sounded desperate. With a deliberate, calming breath, I added, "I'm just thinking of what to say."

The queen nodded. "Take your time." Despite her impartial tone, I could tell she was impatient. It couldn't possibly be as late as she made it out to be–probably only nine o'clock or so, but to my exhausted body it felt like long past midnight. But my job couldn't wait. I was going to prove Adam was innocent, and I was going to do it tonight.

"Your Majesty," I began, "you already know what Thaumaturge Tier has been accused of, and I thank you for granting him as much mercy as you have. Allow me to go back to the very beginning." I proceeded to tell her everything Adam himself had told me only the night before, after our dance. As I told the story behind all of Adam's actions as thaumaturge, my audience's expressions followed the path my own emotions had trodden when I'd heard it for the first time: from curiosity to concern to disgust to shock. The shocked looks of people who didn't know how to feel. When I had finished, I fell silent and waited.

No one spoke for an excruciatingly long time. Then one of the older onlookers, a lady with purple lips and a haughty glance, said, "Excuse me, Miss O'Hara. That was an eye-opening tale, but you can't expect us to pardon Thaumaturge Tier merely on the basis that Queen Levana killed his sister. He made the choice to kill all those people, and he deserves to pay for it."

Other officials murmured agreement.

"He _loved_ his sister," I retorted, balling my fists. "He'd do anythingfor her, and Levana knew that. She used his devotion to get what she wanted. From what I've heard, she did that to everyone she ever came in contact with. How is that any different from using glamour on someone? Adam never wanted to—" I winced "—to kill anyone, but what choice did he have?"

Queen Selene studied me, eyes narrowed. "I agree with Miss O'Hara. Thaumaturge Tier and so many others were only the victims of Levana's rule." She turned to the officials. "I know some of you are of the opinion that I am too merciful when judging the thaumaturges, and perhaps I am, but could any of you condemn this man to a life in prison after what we've just heard?"

"How can we know it's true, Your Majesty?" the lady queried, sneering. "How can we know she isn't lying to us? Maybe Thaumaturge Tier is still using his glamour to make her tell us all of this."

"Do you have any proof that this story _isn't_ true?" Queen Selene countered. The lady opened her purple mouth to speak, but the queen interrupted her before any sound could come out. "Thaumaturge Tier is unconscious, so he can't be controlling her, and I can't see why she would make up something like this." The lady fell into an embarrassed silence. "All the same, Miss O'Hara, because there seems to be some disagreement on the matter, I must ask you to leave the room while we discuss our verdict. I'll have a servant take you to see Thaumaturge Tier if you want. Someone will report our decision to you when it has been made."

I curtsied uncertainly. "Thank you, Your Majesty." I turned to leave, but remembered something. "Your Majesty," I began, turning back, "I left a broken serv-droid in the room I was locked in earlier this afternoon—do you think you could spare the time to fix him?"

A moment's consideration, then the queen said, "I'll do my best."

"Thank you, Your Majesty."


	21. Chapter 21

A boy lay asleep in a bleached hospital bed, curly hair still wet against the pillow from his brief interval in the suspended-animation tank. The cold white light overhead highlighted his slightly crooked nose and the fresh scar that cut across his temple. Pimples plagued his youthful, olive-toned skin. He appeared only nineteen or twenty years old, too young to endure all I knew he'd gone through. The doctors had given him a drug to keep him asleep after his treatment. I couldn't help but feel grateful as I waited in a stiff chair beside the bed. I needed time to myself to think.

Those last few hours… I wasn't sure what to make of them. So much had changed. Nothing had gone to plan. It was anyone's guess what would happen now. Everything was down to the queen's court's verdict: either Adam and I would be free to go wherever we wanted–and I had a mental list which grew by the minute–or he'd be locked up forever and I'd never see him again. I closed my eyes and prayed that the former would become true.

When I looked down at Adam again, he looked back. A gentle smile crept across my lips as I recognized the chocolate gaze.

"Hello, Mr. Tier."

His nose crinkled. "We haven't gone back to _that,_ have we?" he joked. His voice was lighter, younger than I was used to. I wasn't sure whether to laugh or shudder.

"Depends," I replied.

"On what?"

"Whether or not I like the new Adam."

"New…?" His eyes widened in understanding, and his image shimmered. In a breath, I was sitting next to the Adam I knew again, sleek black hair and marble cheekbones. But it didn't feel right, knowing what lay underneath and not being able to see it.

My discomfort must have shown on my face, because Adam frowned. "What's wrong?" he asked.

I felt my ears warm, and I answered apologetically, "I think I prefer New Adam." After a pause, I added quietly, avoiding his gaze, "There aren't any lies on him."

Adam winced, and New Adam reappeared. "Better?"

"Why do you wear the glamour?"

He sighed, pushing himself up in the bed to lean against the headboard. "You never run out of questions, do you?"

"Only when you run out of secrets."

"That's fair." He rubbed his face, a habit that looked out of place next to his boyish features. "You remember I told you I was the youngest thaumaturge? Well, the others would always make fun of me for my age, so I glamoured myself to look older. Simple as that."

"Then why wear it away from work?"

Adam shrugged. "I got into the habit of wearing it all the time. I knows it's childish, but it makes me feel more…" He seemed to search for the right word. "In control. It's easier to feel confident when you have a mask to hide behind. If you could make yourself look however you wanted, wouldn't you do it?"

I picked at my skirt, frowning. "Why didn't you fight back?"

He tensed and pinched the sheets beneath his fingers. "You know why."

My breath caught, but I had run out of tears to shed. "I thought you were dead, Adam." I knit my brows, and fire tinged my repetition: "I thought you were dead."

"I'm sorry." He took my hand in his and squeezed softly. "I didn't want you to have to go through that."

I studied him. I didn't know how to read his new features, but he seemed sincere. And why wouldn't he be? I forced myself to remember that just because he looked—and sounded—different didn't mean that he was.

"So—why aren't I in a prison cell right now?" Adam scanned the room as if expecting someone to jump out of nowhere and handcuff him.

"You needed treatment in the suspended-animation tank, and they couldn't legally lock you up until I'd given my eyewitness defense. Or whatever it's called."

He jerked upright. "You testified? Bell, I told you I don't deserve that. I can't–"

"I told _you_ that I wouldn't let them lock you up if I could do anything about it."

He ran a hand over his face again. "What did they say?"

"They haven't given the final verdict yet. There was some 'disagreement', so they've kicked me out until they come to a decision." I tried for a confident smile but found that my lips wouldn't work. I settled for a grimace.

Adam nodded solemnly. "How are the droids? Is Chip fixed?"

"Pots and Lumi are fine. They're…waiting…somewhere." I waved my hand vaguely. The exhaustion had caught up with me, and my brain had begun to fuzz. One heavy sigh later, I continued, "I asked the queen to fix Chip if she had time, and she said she would. That's all I got."

"You look tired."

"You think?" I laid my head on the sheets beside Adam's arm and let my eyes drift closed. "I had a busy day," I mumbled.

"Sorry."

"It's not your fault." I giggled, bordering on delirious. "Well, I guess it sort of is."

"You need sleep."

"Yep."

He said something else, but the words bounced uselessly from my ears. A gentle hand stroked my hair, now dry but still messy from my swim in the lake. My lips barely had time to curl into a sleepy smile before a timid rapping came at the door.

"Come in," called Adam.

I lifted my head from the bed to see a palace servant standing stiffly at the door.

"The council has reached a verdict," he said.

"What!" I jumped from my chair, all trace of weariness running from me like the night from the sunrise. "What did they decide?"

The servant's gaze flickered anxiously to Adam. "Thaumaturge Tier has been pardoned for his crimes."

" _Yes_!" I screamed, pumping a fist into the air. "Yes, yes, yes!"

"All charges have been dropped," the servant continued. "The thaumaturge is a free man."

"Ha!" I threw my arms around Adam's neck and planted a kiss on his cheek. "I told you we could do it, Adam."

He laughed and returned the embrace. When I pulled away, his eyes were full of a joy I'd never witnessed in them before. His face shone brighter than Luna itself. Then, quick as a flash, he leaned forwards and pressed his lips against mine. My heart jolted, feeling as though it would leap from my chest. But if it had, I wouldn't have cared. I probably wouldn't even have noticed. The kiss was over as quickly as it had begun, and I was left blinking into the shining eyes of Adam Tier, the thaumaturge. The criminal. The villain. Only he wasn't any of those things anymore. He was free— _we_ were free. Free to do anything, to go anywhere. This was the beginning of our adventure.


	22. Epilogue

"So what do you want to do now?" Adam asked as we stood watching the sun rise over the lake from the balcony of the palace.

"Travel." I replied without hesitation. "I want to see the world."

"'The world'. That implies Earth."

"Yep."

"You want to go back to Earth?"

"Yep."

A pause. "Back to your family?"

"Of course. But only for a few days." I grinned and added with fervor, "Then we explore."

He chuckled. "Okay. But I'm not sure your family will want to see me after…everything."

"Nonsense. Of course they will."

Adam raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, maybe not," I admitted. "But I'll talk to them. It'll work out."

"Ever the optimist."

I rolled my eyes but couldn't restrain a smile when his hand wrapped tentatively around mine.

"Hey, Bell-a-roo."

I groaned and turned from the glowing sky to face Captain Thorne, who was in the sloppy process of eating a peach. Cress stood slightly behind him, clearly avoiding eye contact with Adam.

"I thought you weren't a morning person, Thorne," I jibed. "Where did the rocket ship footie pajamas go?"

Thorne shrugged and bit a chunk out of the fruit. "It didn't seem appropriate attire for watching the sunset with one's girlfriend. But I could be wrong—girls are complicated, even to a guy like me." He flashed a winning smile down at Cress, whose cheeks flushed. "Would you rather I had worn my pajamas, Cress?"

"They do look very good on you." She grinned. "But I think I prefer the jacket."

"Jacket it is, then!" Thorne fingered the hem of his leather jacket fondly.

"Oh, by the way," I began, pulling my hand from Adam's so I could cross my arms, "I've been meaning to talk to you."

The slightest of frowns creased Thorne's forehead. "What about?" he asked warily.

"About joining your crew aboard the Rampion."

His frown deepened, and he cocked his head to one side. "What?"

"I want to join the Rampion crew," I repeated. Adam shuffled uncomfortably next to me. "I asked Scarlet to tell you weeks ago." When he continued to look confused, I explained, "I asked Scarlet, Wolf, and Cress if I could join the crew and they said yes, as soon as I got permission from Dad. I haven't got that yet, but I will. And then I'm in the crew."

It was almost irritating how quickly Thorne's face stretched into a beaming grin.

"Wonderful!" he exclaimed. "If I'd known you wanted to join, I'd have let you in months ago. I'm always happy to welcome a new crew member." He winked. I cringed. "So what did you want to talk to me about, then?"

"When we're heading out," I said. "Where we're going. How I can become a member of the crew officially. And whether or not Adam can become one, too."

Thorne choked on a bite of peach. "What?" he wheezed between coughs.

Adam flinched. I took his hand again and said to Thorne, "I'm getting tired of repeating things, you know."

Cress thumped Thorne's back, trying and failing to hide her amusement. "I don't think he's a big fan of the idea of Adam coming on board," she giggled, casting a shy glance at Adam.

"He's not dangerous," I retorted.

Adam squeezed my hand and said quietly, "I can speak for myself, Bell." He drew himself up to his full height, which was several inches shorter than it had been previously, and spoke over Thorne's hacking. "Captain Thorne, Miss Cress, I know I don't deserve your trust. What I've done to Bell and her family is inexcusable, and a part of me will always believe the queen should have locked me up for it. But I promise you that if you let me be a part of your crew alongside yourselves and Bell, I will be the most loyal, most honorable, most–"

"No, no." Thorne's eyes were red-rimmed and watery as he waved a hand at Adam to stop. With another cough, he continued, "That's not it. I'm perfectly happy to have you aboard, just as long as you don't wear your glamour." He grinned. "After all, there's only room for one breathtakingly handsome man on board the Rampion."

I smirked. "I'll make sure to tell Wolf you think he's 'breathtakingly handsome'."

Adam snorted; Cress giggled. Thorne frowned uncertainly down at the girl, then at me. I watched the wheels turning in his brain. Then his eyes widened and he opened his mouth to object, but Adam interjected.

"I won't wear my glamour," he said, his tone low and solemn. "You have my word. I never want to wear it again."

Thorne snapped his mouth shut, raised an unhappy eyebrow at me, and said, "Then we have a deal." He flashed a bright smile, apparently having shaken off the insult. "You can bring the droids, too, if you want. They'll add some more excitement to the ship. We leave for Earth tomorrow morning. Our first stop is a village in the southern American Republic. They've been waiting patiently for the letumosis antidote for several weeks, and we finally have the time to get it to them." Thorne sighed and shook his head. "A cargo ship's work is never done."

I rolled my eyes. "Yes, how busy you must be, saving everyone's lives. Such a chore."

"You know, a few days on the Rampion with me and you'll start enjoying my company," Thorne said with a wink. "Meanwhile, we'll find somewhere else to watch the sunrise so you two can be alone." Wiggling his eyebrows, he put an arm around Cress and steered her from the balcony.

"Let's hope so," I muttered under my breath. Next to me, Adam rubbed his cheek, a nervous crease forming in his forehead. "What's wrong?"

He turned his face to the rising sun and said, "Nothing. I was just thinking… I don't know." He released a soft laugh. "It's strange not to need to hide anymore. And…" He sighed sadly. "And I wish Josie could see me now."

"She'd be proud of you," I smiled.

He nodded, and squinted into the sky.

The red dawn had painted the sleeping city a rosy hue. All that could be heard was the soothing wash of waves below. The fresh breeze of clean air swept over the lake, bathing Artemisia in peace and serenity. Then, in an explosion of color, the sun burst over the horizon and splashed across the crimson lake, transforming it into a sea of glittering stars. The sky became a dizzying array of yellow, orange, red, and fuchsia that stretched off into the forever of space.

"Bell, may I kiss you?"

I tore my eyes from the dazzling spectacle before me to see Adam, illuminated by all the golden colors of the sunrise, gazing down at me. Red light filtered through his curls like fire in a dark forest. For the first time, I could confidently read the expression on his face, and that was all I needed. I smiled and nodded.

The kiss that Adam shared with me on the palace balcony that morning exploded in my heart with more brilliance than all the colors of the sky, transformed the fervid fires of the sun into a mere candle flame, and put the inimitable glory of the sunrise to shame. It was sweeter than the music box, softer than Adam's hand-knit sweater, and more romantic than any fairy tale…ever.

The End


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